


Destinia: First Year at Hogwarts

by MChanV



Series: Destinia [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Child Abuse, Destinia, M/M, Mention of Child Abuse, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 49,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21632158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MChanV/pseuds/MChanV
Summary: (Also on Wattpad and Tumblr, same (user)name)I’ve always wondered what Draco Malfoy’s side of the Harry Potter saga was, that’s how I came up with this idea. It is not possible at all to be canon, due to the inability of certain magical items in the story. It runs alongside the books very closely, so some dialogue or actions can come directly from them.Draco Malfoy goes to Hogwarts for his first year. After being sorted into Slytherin and the night had fallen, a strange silvery bird gives him a message. The bird, seemingly a Phoenix, belongs to Albus Dumbledore, his Headmaster, who gives Draco a book upon his arrival in his office that same night. Draco has no idea what the book meant, but decides to go through with what Dumbledore has asked of him.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood (background)
Series: Destinia [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559158
Comments: 21
Kudos: 80





	1. The Book

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, this is my first story here, on AO3, and I’m not exactly sure how everything works yet. If there are mistakes in the posting of this story, feel free to tell me or help with what you want and can. Nothing coming from the original HP series belongs to me, all those belong to JK Rowling, I only made the story.
> 
> Concrit is welcome.
> 
> In terms of fanwork of this story:  
> Fanart: No permission needed, send link to my mail (MChanV.Official@gmail.com) and/or @ me if posted to tumblr or instagram.  
> Podfic: Permission needed, request permission and send link via mail (MChanV.Official@gmail.com) and/or @ me if posted to tumblr or instagram  
> Translations: Permission needed, request permission and send link via mail (MChanV.Official@gmail.com) and/or @ me if posted to tumblr or instagram  
> Sequel: No permission needed, send link via mail (MChanV.Official@gmail.com) and/or @ me if posted to tumblr or instagram  
> !Credit is needed for all of the above!  
> I usually respond within 24 hours.

Finally, Hogwarts! Draco breathed in the cold air of the night as the boats drifted towards Hogwarts. 1 September 1991, Draco’s first day at Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry!

His father had told him all about it, prepared him for everything. So, it didn’t surprise him at all as the ghosts came floating in, nor as the Sorting Hat began to sing. He thought it quite nice most didn’t; he felt superior to them.

That evening, Draco was about to fall asleep after a long day as a strange silvery bird appeared next to his bed. He sat up in shock, not having seen it coming in. It seemed to be a Phoenix.

“Come to my office tonight,” the Phoenix said in a voice Draco recognized as Albus Dumbledore’s, his Headmaster. The Phoenix vanished.

Draco sleepily got dressed and made his way out of his dormitory into the common room. He was glad to see it deserted. Quietly, not to wake anyone, he crossed the room and left. He walked for a good five minutes until he remembered he had no idea where his Headmaster’s office was. Just as he wanted to turn around and go back to the Slytherin common room, he heard a voice coming from his right.

“Ah, a student out of bed. I see...” Filch, the caretaker, said, “A new face... A first year Slytherin? Let’s see what Professor Snape says of this...”

Thinking this was his only change, Draco asked, desperately trying to avoid his Head of House knowing about this: “Can’t you bring me to the Headmaster instead?”

Filch laughed. “Not afraid of a good punishment. I see! Good then, follow me, boy!”

Filch seemed quite happy the whole way towards his Headmaster’s office. Draco guessed he must think he would get badly punished, Draco hoped not. While walking, he tried his best to recognize the way they were going.

They stopped at a stone statue of a gargoyle at the dead-end of a corridor. Filch gave the gargoyle the password and Draco followed him up a staircase, to come to a halt in front of a door. The caretaker knocked and an old voice sounded from behind it, the same in which the Phoenix had spoken.

“Enter.”

They entered and Filch said enthusiastically, “There was a student out of bed, sir! This boy here.” He pushed Draco forward.

“Thank you, Argus, but I asked him to come here. I’m glad you brought him, you can leave now,” Dumbledore said calmly, smiling.

Draco sighed internally, he was not getting punished. Filch had kind of the opposite reaction, though, he left the room angry, muttering under his breath something about students being out of bed.

Dumbledore smiled down at Draco, who shifted awkwardly.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” he started nervously.

“Yes, indeed, Draco. Please sit down.” He gestured to the chair before his desk, as he himself sat down behind it. “So, Draco, do you have any idea why I asked you here tonight?”

Draco shook his head.

“I see... Either way, you’ll find out soon. Do you see this book here, Draco?” He pointed to a book with a very dark cover. He couldn’t read the title, but there was something written on it in golden ink. He nodded. “What colour is it?”

At first, Draco thought he was joking. But looking up into those blue eyes, he knew he wasn’t.

“Black and dark red, sir, with a golden title.”

Dumbledore looked very pleased with the answer.

“Is that so? That’s nice! Now, Draco, I didn’t ask you here to test if you were colorblind, if that’s what you were thinking,” he said, “I actually want to ask you for a favour.”

He took the book and laid it in front of Draco. Draco looked down at it and sneered. The title read: _Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone_. “What is this favour, sir?” Draco wondered irritably after reading the title, looking back up at his Headmaster.

Dumbledore smiled. “I want you to study this book,” he said calmly, as if it wasn’t a big deal, “and note every important bit of information. Do you think you can do that, Draco?”

Draco frowned. “Can’t you do that, sir? I mean, I might not be the right person to write things down about _Potter_.” He sneered again at the mention of the name.

“Already got a past, I see. That makes it even better! And believe me Draco when I say I’ve already got a lot of things to do as a Headmaster.”

“But... Why me? I don’t understand, sir...” He looked down at the book again, thinking, trying his best to understand.

“You won’t,” Dumbledore said calmly, Draco looked back up. “Not yet, at least. But you’re the best person for this job. Trust me.”

He gave Draco a reassuring smile. Draco sighed. “Okay then, I’ll try...”

“Great!” Dumbledore beamed. “Here, take these for your notes.”

Draco looked down at the four items Dumbledore had just handed him. One of them seemed to be a book; except without words, and only blank lines. The second thing was long and pointy, he took it and rolled it between his thumb and index; it seemed to be made of wood. The third was a strange rectangular object, it felt rubbery under his touch. The last was again rectangular, only with a round hole in one side, the size of the long, quill -like thing, in which was put a small, sharp blade. “What are these, sir?” he asked his Headmaster.

“Those are a notebook, a pencil, an eraser and a sharpener,” he explained, pointing from one thing to another. “Muggles use the pencil to take erasable notes in a notebook.”

“Do I have to write with this, in that?” Draco wondered grudgingly, pointing from the pencil in his hand to the notebook.

“If you don’t mind.”

“All right, then. Can I go now?”

“One more thing, Draco, can you open the book and see where it stops?” Dumbledore asked.

Draco nodded and opened the book. He skipped through it until the sentences suddenly stopped and the pages turned out white and empty. “Page 141, sir, Chapter 8.”

“Do you think that is the end of the chapter?”

Draco shook his head. “Only the start, the second page of it.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Then I would like it if you’d manage to get to the end of chapter 7 before your first Potions lesson. When is that?”

“I don’t know, sir, I don’t have my timetable yet.”

“That’s right, my apologies. Then, can you come back here tomorrow, at 10 o’clock?” Dumbledore asked. Draco nodded. “All right, then! You may leave. And don’t forget to study the book. Goodnight Draco.”

“‘Night, sir.” Draco stood up and walked to the door.

“Oh, and the password is ‘Chocolate Frog’!” Dumbledore called after him before he closed the door.

Draco walked soundlessly through the corridors of the castle, tracking back the way he went. His mind was racing wildly, and thoughts like ‘Why am I the best for _this_?’ and ‘Is he just playing with me?’ kept returning, over and over again. Finally, he stood in front of the wall that held the secret entrance to the Slytherin dormitory. He whispered the password, and the hidden door in the wall opened, allowing him to enter.

He walked to his dormitory and laid down on his bed; the book held close to his chest while the other things laid dumped on his bedside table. He took the book off his chest and looked at it; it was too dark to read it so he put it away. He sighed and rolled over, and, too tired to get changed, fell asleep in his robes.

(Text Copyright © 2019 MChanV)


	2. The First Pages

Draco woke up the next morning by Goyle calling him to ‘hurry and get dressed, breakfast’s about to start!’ He grunted and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with one hand, while his other searched blindly for his wand. Instead of his wand, his hand touched something different, something with a weird, wooden texture.

He raised his eyebrows, took it and looked at it. He recognised the pencil Dumbledore had given to him the day, more like night, before. He looked down at his bedside table at the other things; all of them were still there: the notebook, eraser and the sharpener of which he had forgotten to ask the exact use, and _the book_. The book was still there, the book Dumbledore had asked him to study, the book of which Draco got the feeling was something full of extremely difficult and _powerful_ magic.

He dismissed it and searched for his wand, finding it at last underneath the notebook. He took it and put it in his pocket before realising he was still wearing his robes from the day, or night, before. He dropped the hawthorn wand back on his bedside table and disposed off his robes. He took new ones from his trunk, put them on, took his wand, and was planning to leave the room before his eyes fell back upon the book.

He wondered for a second if he should take it with him, but decided against it. Either way, they got their timetables today, so he’d have to come back for his school books. He’d have the chance to take it with him then.

Down at breakfast, they got their timetables at eight o’clock. Draco looked down at his and searched for Potions. The Slytherins had their first lesson Potions on Friday morning, double Potions with, Draco groaned, the _Gryffindors_. He looked back at Monday and saw they started with Charms, and then Herbology. He got up, deciding he had eaten enough, and went down to the Slytherin dormitories again to get his books. Classes started at nine, so he only had about half an hour to get his book before having to start the impossible quest of reaching his first lesson in time.

In his dorm, he took _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk and _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore figuring he’d come back after his second period for those of Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration for the afternoon. He wanted to leave and start his search but his attention was pulled away, for the third time that morning, to the book, _Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone_ on his bedside table. He stood there for a good five minutes, contemplating. His Headmaster wanted him to study the book, page 1 to 139 before Friday no less, but he would look flat-out _ridiculous_ walking around with a book about _Potter_ in his hands.

Draco sighed and put the book in his bag. Maybe, maybe, he’d get a few minutes off during the lessons so he could start reading.

Draco soon found out it would be impossible for him to actually read the book during the lessons. Flitwick had almost immediately, after taking the register, started with a bit of history about wands and a few magical laws. He hadn’t given them any homework yet, but Draco thought it wouldn’t be long until they got foot-long essays to write and difficult assignments to fulfill. It was the same for Herbology. Although it was a calmer lesson, and Sprout gave them a full fifteen minutes free at the end of the lesson, Draco didn’t deem it safe to take out the book. While everyone was talking about their lessons or lunch, Draco sneaked out and went back to the castle, down to his dormitory in the Dungeons.

There, Draco switched his books for _A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switchand and _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble. Figuring Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration would be the same as Charms and Herbology, he took the book Dumbledore gave him out of his bag and put it in his trunk. He walked over to his bedside, took the four other things, and put them with the book.

But, for the second time that day, he had been mistaken. Defence Against the Dark Arts was the most boring lesson he had ever had. Of course, his first History of Magic lesson was the next day, so he didn’t know how boring they would be yet. Quirrell taught them nothing and, the last half an hour of class, just gave up and let them talk to each other for the remainder of class.

Draco thought he was the only one that wasn’t talking to anyone, his mind drifting off to the book every five to ten seconds. The whole class was talking in groups of two or three, often to their neighbours. Crabbe and Goyle were talking together to his right, but Draco couldn’t understand a word they were saying, and not just because they were whispering.

Draco sighed and was about to get up when his eyes fell upon a brown-haired girl sitting alone in the corner. Draco thought for a moment that she might not be a Slytherin, and that that was the reason she sat alone, but dismissed it as he saw the green and silver linings on the uniform.

He got up and walked over to her, his bag swung around his shoulder. The girl looked up as Draco neared her. Draco felt her gaze upon him as he sat down opposite her.

“What’s your name?” Draco asked carefully. “And why are you on your own?” The second part was out before he could stop himself.

The girl sniffed quietly and looked up at him. She seemed sad even though there weren’t any tears in her eyes.

“My name’s Pansy, Pansy Parkinson. And I don’t really have any friends...” the girl named Parkinson whispered.

“Yet,” Draco added. She looked up at him with a quizzical look.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we could be friends,” Draco decided. Beside of Crabbe and Goyle, who he only knew because their fathers were ‘old friends’, as his father always told him, Draco didn’t really have any friends. And the one time he did try to befriend someone... Well... Draco still remembered that moment vividly, as if it was the day before, which, he reminded himself, was.

Draco looked up at the girl to see a small smile on her face.

“I’d love to!” she beamed excited. Draco hesitated before holding out his hand and was delighted when Pansy took it. He returned her smile, and he found himself chatting away for the remaining fifteen minutes of class.

He actually only remembered they were in class as, at a quarter past two, the bell for break rang. Draco talked with Pansy the whole way to their Transfiguration classroom, completely forgotten about the book. For the first time in a long time, he finally felt that he had found a friend, a real friend, not the son of your father’s friend.

They made sure to sit next to each other in Transfiguration, but had little time to talk as it seemed every word McGonagall told them was of high importance. They ended up with half a scroll of notes each. Draco again felt he lucked out as they didn’t get any homework.

They had around two hours before dinner started so Draco pulled Pansy to every little secret his father had told him the day before he left for school.

An hour later, the two eleven-year-olds entered the Slytherin common room exhausted. They each went up to their respective dormitories to get rid of their books.

Upstairs, Draco took out his timetable and was delighted to see they got Tuesday afternoons off. Only Herbology and History of Magic to suffer through. He put his books away in his trunk. Right before he closed it, the lights reflected on something golden on the bottom of his trunk. He reached out and grabbed it; it was the book. He had completely forgotten about it since he’d made a new friend.

He looked around the deserted dormitory and sat down on his bed. He read the title: _Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone_. The words seemed almost natural, having read them a few times already. But, thinking them through a little, he didn’t understand a third of them. What was this ‘ _Philosopher’s Stone_ ’ that was written in the title?

Curiosity taking him over, he opened the book and soon found a table of contents.

They read:

_Chapter one_

_ The Boy Who Lived _

_ Chapter two _

_ The Vanishing Glass _

_ Chapter three _

_ The Letters from No One _

_ Chapter four _

_ The Keeper of the Keys _

_ Chapter five _

_ Diagon Alley _

_ Chapter six _

_ The Journey from Platform _

_ Nine and Three-Quarters _

_ Chapter seven _

_ The Sorting Hat _

And, at last:

_Chapter eight_

_ The Potions Master _

This time, Draco knew the meaning of most of the words. The Boy Who Lived was that Harry Potter, Draco’s father had told him about that once; the Keeper of the Keys must refer to that Hagrid oaf that lives on the grounds in this little shabby shed; Diagon Alley, who doesn’t know that? Well Muggles and Mudbloods... but they’re incompetent either way. Platform Nine and Three Quarters, the well-known Platform. The Sorting Hat speaks for itself and the Potions Master must refer to Severus Snape, Potions teacher and Head of Draco’s house.

At the end of that list, there weren’t any more things written. Strange, Draco thought, only eight chapters for this many pages? Deciding to test his ‘theory’, Draco opened the book at random and found himself looking at a blank piece of paper. It was as if the book wasn’t finished yet. It seemed Draco’s guts had been correct in telling him this was not just a book, not even a book of the Wizarding World. No, it was stronger than that, way stronger.

He turned over the next page and looked with wide eyes at a map of Hogwarts and its surrounding grounds. Of course, it wasn’t a very accurate map, but everything was on it: Hogwarts, the Greenhouses, Hogsmeade Station, even Hogsmeade itself, a while outside of the Grounds. Whatever this book was, Draco had started taking a liking to it.

He turned over one more page and saw the start of _Chapter one: The Boy Who Lived_. Out of pure curiosity, Draco started to read.

The book started with a certain Mr and Mrs Dursley, who lived at number four, Privet Drive. And, even though he had no idea who these Dursleys were, Draco soon found he didn’t like them that much. 

“How dare that ‘ _Mr Dursley_ ’ insult our style!” he whispered under his breath, outraged. These people were obviously Muggles.

He continued reading, making random comments under his breath, until he read two certain lines. He had to read them again to make sure they really stood there.

_‘The Potters, that’s right, that’s what I heard —‘_

_ ‘—yes, their son, Harry —‘ _

Draco got the feeling he knew when this was. He read a bit further and the lines about a ‘tiny old man’ telling that Mr Muggle to ‘Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last!’ confirmed his thoughts.

This was the day after the Dark Lord had lost his powers.

Filled with a new curiosity, he read on with excitement travelling through him like a blazing fire.

Still making his usual comments, Draco soon noticed something. That cat... a tabby cat with markings around its eyes... He remembered their first Transfiguration lesson.

They had entered the Classroom right on time only to find a cat sitting on the desk, no McGonagall in sight. Suddenly, the cat had transformed into McGonagall. The cat had been a tabby and had peculiar markings around its, or rather, her eyes!

Feeling proud of himself, he read on.

Soon, he forgot about his usual comments. At ends of certain sentences he just stared blankly at the page, fascinated, entranced and sometimes even sorry. His expression turned more serious as he read about his Headmaster wanting to make Potter live with those horrible Muggles. Like, what was he thinking?!?! But, after a while, he understood his intentions.

Draco finished the chapter right as the door opened. He jumped and hid his book, looking up to see Pansy.

“And what do you think you’re doing? Dinner’s about to start!” she said slightly angry.

“Sorry, Pansy,” Draco apologised, he got off of his bed, the book hidden behind his back.

“I’ll wait for you in the common room, hurry,” she said and left.

Draco sighed and looked at the book one last time, a small smile on his face. Suddenly, he didn’t really mind having to study it. “Study! I totally forgot about that!“ he remembered, speaking in a whisper, “I’ll do it after Dinner.”

He put the book away and left the room.

After dinner, he returned to his dormitory straight away, telling Pansy he had something important to do for school. It wasn’t a complete lie; he _did_ have something important to do, but he wasn’t sure if it was for the school or just for his Headmaster.

In his dorm, he took the book and the four Muggle things from the bottom of his trunk and settled down behind his desk, next to his bed. Every student had one to make homework on. It also kind of sported as a bedside table since it stood next to the bed.

He read through the chapter once more, scribbling down important pages on a spare piece of parchment with the pencil. He had never worked with one before, but it wasn’t all too bad.

Finishing the chapter for the second time, he opened the notebook and wrote:

_Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone_

_ Chapter one: The Boy Who Lived _

Beneath it, Draco started making notes. He soon found a good system: reading a page, writing important information, reading the next page, writing important information... He continued this for the whole chapter and then looked at the time.

His eyes widened, it was half-past nine. For a second, he wondered if it might be wrong; the dorm was still deserted. But Crabbe and Goyle answered his doubts by entering. Draco sighed, he put away the pencil, the eraser of which he found out erased the pencil, as its name said, and the sharpener he had used to sharpen it, in his trunk. He put the book and notebook in his bag and swung it around his shoulder.

Crabbe and Goyle didn’t even bat an eye as Draco left the room. Unfortunately, getting out of the common room turned out to be a bit more difficult.

“Where do you think you’re going, First Year!” the male Slytherin Prefect called over the noise, Draco came to a stop right in front of the exit.

Draco started sweating nervously; most of the students in the common room were Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Years. “Out,” he answered briefly, turning back to the door.

“I don’t think so, boy,” the Prefect said, “First Years aren’t allowed to be out after eight o’clock, you must know that.”

“Of course, I do!” Draco exclaimed loudly, “Who do you see me for? Some dumb, reckless Gryffindor?” Many people laughed at the joke, but the Prefect only got more angry.

“Don’t talk to you superior like that!” the other Prefect demanded above the laughter, silencing the room. “Students are only allowed out after curfew if a teacher says so.”

“I know,” Draco said. “So, can I go now?”

The two Prefects stared at him with their eyes wide.

“Didn’t you hear her?!” the male one shouted. “You are not allowed out of the Dormitories!!”

Draco gave them each a sharp glare before giving up and returning to his dorm. There he saw the other four boys were already in bed. Determined not to pull any more attention to himself, he walked over to the window and sat down, staring deep into the Black Lake. It was quite fascinating, honestly, how the windows in the Slytherin Dormitories were underwater.

But Draco wasn’t paying attention, he was trying to find a way out of there, unnoticed by anyone. Dumbledore expected him to be in his office at ten o’clock, but the Prefects wouldn’t let him pass. A quarter had passed already, a quarter to go. Would Dumbledore mind it if he came late because of his Prefects? Draco hoped not because there was nothing to do except to wait. Draco waited and waited until a quarter past ten.

He got up and sneaked to the door, opening it soundlessly. He looked into the common room and was relieved, to say the least, it was mostly deserted. He walked over to the exit and left, unnoticed by the handful of Slytherins still in the room, working on their homework. While hurrying through the corridors, Draco hoped he never had to make his homework this late at night and made a note to himself to never let it come to that.

Five minutes later, he finally found the stone gargoyle statue, waiting for a password to allow entrance to the Headmaster’s office. With his bag carrying the book and notebook clutched tightly in his hand, Draco hurried over to the statue and said, in a clear voice: “Chocolate Frog” the password Dumbledore had told him the night before.

The gargoyle freed the way and Draco walked up to the door. He knocked and entered after the Headmaster’s voice had allowed it. Draco entered, looking slightly ashamed; he was at least twenty minutes late and he wasn’t proud of it.

“Ah, Draco. I was wondering when you’d come!” Dumbledore greeted. He gestured Draco to sit down, Draco complied without a word.

A few seconds later, he dared open his mouth. “I’m sorry I’m late, sir...” he apologised, “the Prefects wouldn’t let me leave.”

Draco hoped this was enough for his Headmaster and was relieved to see him nod and bear a small, understanding smile. “I certainly don’t blame you, Draco. Sneaking out this late at night, but not late enough, is incredibly difficult.

“Now, you’ve received your timetables today. When is your first Potions lesson?”

“Friday morning,” Draco answered simply.

“Right. And you remember your task?”

“Finish the first seven chapters before the first lesson.”

“Good.” Dumbledore gave him a bright smile. “Have you started working already? Seeing as you were locked up in your Dormitories for a while.”

Draco nodded. “I finished the first chapter and noted the most important parts in the notebook.”

“Great!” Dumbledore beamed. “Can I see it?”

Draco nodded again and took both the book and notebook out of his bag. He handed the notebook over while keeping the book to himself. Dumbledore opened it and examined it for a while before looking back up at Draco.

“Can I keep this for the night? I’ll make sure you have it back before tomorrow morning,” Dumbledore requested, Draco nodded.

“All right, then that’s settled. I was wondering whether you could come here again Saturday night.” Draco nodded again.

“Goodnight Draco.”

“‘Night, sir,” Draco said, he put the book back in his bag and left the office. He was halfway to his Dormitories as he remembered all the little notes he had made in the margins. He walked the rest of the way in embarrassment, his head held low and his pale cheeks tinted pink.

That night, he might have fallen asleep even sooner than the night before, certainly feeling way more tired. He cheered himself up with the thought of having the afternoon of the next day off before drifting off.

Draco woke up by the sound of wings fluttering. He opened his eyes and saw a real Phoenix this time, not the silver copy of it, holding a book in its beak. Draco sat up and took the book. A small smile formed on his face as he noticed it was the notebook.

_‘Before tomorrow morning’, he does stay through to his words; it’s only four o’clock._

The Phoenix flew away. Deciding he couldn’t sleep anymore, or just because he didn’t want to, he grabbed the book from his trunk and opened it on page 19, were the second chapter, _The Vanishing Glass_ , started.

He lit a small night-lamp his mother had given with him, laid down on his bed and started to read.

A while later, he had to suppress a scream. He reread a certain part a few more times, not believing a word of it.

He’s a Parselmouth!! What! No, that’s impossible... He can’t be. Draco couldn’t _believe_ it; he just couldn’t. Potter, a Parselmouth... He had to give it to him, though, vanishing glass just like that. Still, he couldn’t believe it, not until he had some kind of confirmation. The book must have been lying, Draco decided.

He read on and felt slightly sorry; he knew exactly what that flash of green light was and why it had brought him pain. And had those Muggles really been telling Potter his parents died in a car crash? They’re horrible... Azkaban worthy.

He finished the chapter in a small half hour and decided to immediately read the next one. It was only half past four in the morning and classes started at nine so he had _plenty_ of time.

Draco, he had to say, was incredibly surprised that those Dursleys, or horrible Muggles as he liked to call them, just _discarded the Hogwarts Letters_. Like, how could they?!

He finished the chapter another half an hour later; it was five o’clock now and immediately read on.

He started getting some respect for that Hagrid oaf as well. If it wasn’t for him, H— _Potter_ would still be with those Muggles, and Draco thought even some of the most horrible wizards and witches didn’t deserve that. Some did though, some certainly did.

And that pig’s tail was amazing, totally worth it. Draco was glad Hagrid had told Potter the truth about everything, so glad he was _beaming_ at the end of the chapter.

That last chapter only took about twenty to twenty-five minutes, but it felt way shorter to Draco as he jumped in surprise as he saw it was already half-past five. He laid the book by the notebook on his desk and took the pencil, eraser and sharpener out of his trunk. Settling down behind his desk, he followed his system of the day before.

It took him an hour to complete only the second chapter and only got halfway through the third as Theodore Nott woke up. Still afraid of judgement, he marked the page and hid the things. Who wakes up at six? Draco wondered after taking a look at the clock.

A quarter later, Theodore left the room and Draco returned to work on the third chapter, finishing it in time for the other three boys to wake up and leave the room before the clock hit seven. Draco was convinced he’d manage to finish the fourth chapter before eight, so he continued working.

Draco sighed and leaned back, about an hour later; he finished it and was very proud of himself. Right as he had put everything away and was planning to change and go down to breakfast, Pansy entered the dorm.

“Morning Pansy,” Draco greeted cheerfully as he noticed her.

“Mornin’,” she muttered sleepily, “I was coming to see if you were up already, but I see you are. See you up at breakfast, then.”

“Sure,” Draco answered and Pansy left the room.

The morning went by fairly quickly, although History of Magic was incredibly boring, he was lucky he still had Pansy to talk to. He had to say; they were already becoming good friends, and he looked out on strengthening that friendship even more.

Draco was happy he had already finished more than half of the task Dumbledore had given him so he allowed himself to spend the afternoon chatting with Pansy. Draco often saw heads turning their way as they sat next to each other on a couch a bit away from the fireplace. Sometimes, he saw small groups of First, Second or Third Years repeatedly looking back at them in between whispers.

After dinner, Draco was the first one to go to the First Years Boys’ Dormitory, and he decided to read one more chapter before going to bed. He smirked triumphantly as he saw he was already on chapter 5, _Diagon Alley_.

After a few pages, he got quite a suspicious feeling from Quirrell; he didn’t know why. He read the part about a vault seven hundred and thirteen very attentive, not missing a word. Whatever that package was, Draco got the feeling it would be something important.

His expression changed again to a half sad, half stern one as he read on. He read about the part where he and Potter met for the very first time at _Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions_. Back then, Draco had had no idea who that ruffled-looking glasses-wearing boy in oversized clothes was, acting incredibly idiotic and, Draco felt bad when he read it, _reminding him of that horrible Muggle bully cousin_.

He quickly read on, laughing a little at precious Potter, wanting to buy a solid golden cauldron. Wait. Precious? Draco thought incredulously. Never! He read on and, at the part in Ollivanders, he returned his full attention to book again.

_‘... holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.’_

A pretty nice wand, if Draco would say so himself. Draco had got a hawthorn and unicorn hair, ten inches, springy when he went there the same day.

He was surprised about the fact Lord V—the Dark Lord’s wand and Potter’s wand had the same core, making it brothers, but suppressed his surprise as he heard voices slowly nearing. He quickly read on and, right at the end, Crabbe and Goyle entered the room. He hurriedly put away the book, changed into his pyjamas and got into bed.

This time, he lay awake for a while. Not thinking about the book, well, kind of maybe, but thinking about what he had called Potter. That morning, he had nearly called him _Harry_ , although that must have been because that’s how it’s written in the book. But that didn’t change the fact he had called him _precious_ , and that thought couldn’t leave his mind.

He lay awake for maybe a full hour, recounting the times he had seen Potter the past three days. He had to stop himself from smiling every time he recalled Potter smiling, feeling sad every time he remembered Potter being abused and bullied by those who were supposed to be his family.

And, after a long time, he had to stop himself from thinking about Potter and finally _get some bloody sleep because tomorrow was a school day with a midnight lesson_. In the end he did manage to fall asleep, only to meet a smiling Potter in his dreams.

(Text Copyright © 2019 MChanV)


	3. A Blank Book

Wednesday went by relatively quick. Draco had been right about it not taking all too long for them to receive homework. They got two essays and two quizzes for the next week, one of each for Transfiguration and the others for History of Magic.

Only late that evening, he continued working on the task again; they had to stay up until midnight for Astronomy either way. Pansy had gotten tired around ten and had gone upstairs, telling Draco to wake her up half an hour in advance so they could leave. Draco, likewise, had gone up to his dormitory; there wasn’t much to do in the common room without Pansy.

Really not being in the mood to work on his homework, he had grabbed the book and the other stuff, and settled down behind his desk with the little light.

It took him a nearly an hour and a half to complete the notes for the fifth chapter. Maybe it was so he could wake Pansy, half an hour in advance like she had asked.

He put everything away, before reminding himself he’d rather keep the book close to him. Why? Was he getting attached to it or something? Draco didn’t know, and he didn’t feel like questioning it. He put it in his bag with his telescope, a very expansive one of course, and went to the common room. There, he took the door to the girls’ dormitories and quickly found those of the First Years.

He knocked twice, not wanting to just burst in; it was the _Girls_ ’ Dormitory after all. He turned the knob after he heard a girl’s voice Draco recognised as Millicent Bulstrode allow it. He entered the room and every girl’s head turned towards him.

“What are _you_ doing here?” a girl asked surprised. Draco didn’t know her name.

“Waking up Pansy,” he answered casually, shrugging and gesturing towards the sleeping Slytherin girl. “She asked me to wake her half an hour before our Astronomy lesson.”

He strode over to her bed, followed by eight pairs of eyes, and nudged the sleeping Pansy. “Wake up, Pans, it’s time.”

It took Draco a few times before Pansy finally groaned and demanded in a hoarse voice, “Who dare wake me?”

“Pansy,” Draco said, playfully irritated, “it’s nearly midnight. We have Astronomy, remember?”

Pansy shot up, suddenly wide awake. “Oh, yeah, you’re right. Let’s go, Draco.” She grabbed her bag, which obviously contained her telescope and led Draco out of the room.

For their first Astronomy lesson, they had to meet up with the other houses, seeing as it was for all the First Years, in the Entrance Hall. From there, their Professor would come to get them and guide them to the Astronomy Tower. It was safer that way because Filch wouldn’t be able to keep them up, at least not from the Entrance Hall onwards.

Down in the Entrance Hall, Draco and Pansy were the only Slytherins present yet. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were already there, and it didn’t take long before the Gryffindors arrived, all in one big group. Draco wondered for a second if the other two houses also came like that. If so, he and Pansy would look full on ridiculous coming here with the two of them.

Draco couldn’t help glancing at Potter across the room as Pansy was busy complaining about them having their lessons with the whole school. Potter was talking to Weasley at the edge of the Gryffindor group, occasionally laughing. Draco wondered how someone with such a past could still smile and laugh like nothing ever happened. He knew he would have a much harder time doing so if his father wouldn’t push him to do it.

“Draco? Are you listening?” Pansy called, bringing Draco’s attention back to her.

“Oh, no, sorry. I was thinking about our homework and Astronomy,” he lied smoothly. She didn’t have to know he had just been looking at a Gryffindor, and Potter no less.

“Okay. I was just saying our Professor’ll be here soon,” she said, right as Professor Sinistra entered the Entrance Hall.

She called all the students (the Slytherin’s had entered about a minute ago, also in one group, and Draco started to think it was a tradition), and led them to the Astronomy tower.

At a quarter past one, they all left the Tower, Professor Sinistra leading them back to the Entrance Hall. Halfway there, a voice halted them.

“All right there, Professor Sinistra?” Dumbledore greeted, walking up to the group of First Years. All of them looked nervous, even Pansy standing next to him, but Draco had met up with his Headmaster a few times already and kept a cool head.

“Of course, Professor Dumbledore, just leading the First Years back after their first lesson,” she answered casually, gesturing to the group behind her.

Some students gave a little twitch as Dumbledore looked over at them and said, “That’s good. I was planning to speak to one of them.” Draco’s breath hitched. Was he talking about him? “The person knows who I’m talking about and I expect them in my office in no less than ten minutes,” he continued.

Draco was sure it was him now, but tried to act casually, sharing his best fake-confusion look with Pansy’s real one.

A few minutes later, Draco hurried to his dormitory and took the notebook, immediately running out again and up the corridors. He didn’t know if anyone had seen him, but he didn’t really care.

He halted in front of the stone statue with only one minute left. He gave the password and walked upstairs, out of breath. He knocked on the door and entered with his Headmaster’s allowance.

“Goodnight, Draco,” Dumbledore greeted, gesturing towards the chair in front of his desk. “I’m glad you noticed my hint.”

“Of course, sir,” Draco answered. “I also have something to ask you, if you don’t mind.”

Dumbledore smiled. “No, I don’t. What is it, Draco?”

“Well...” Draco shifted nervously in his chair. This was his chance to ask about Potter being a Parselmouth. “I was studying the book and came by something very.. strange... But, I don’t know, it doesn’t seem exactly true. I don’t believe it, at least.”

Dumbledore nodded. “And what is that?”

“It’s about Potter. He spoke to a snake. The book, it states he’s a Parselmouth. But how? I mean... It’s Potter, he couldn’t, you know...” Draco tried his best to keep his voice calm, but failed drastically. He was just gambling at the end.

Dumbledore smiled. “A Parselmouth, huh? That’s unexpected,” he said calmly, staring off at something behind Draco.

It surprised him his Headmaster wasn’t freaking out like he was. “So, you believe it, sir?” he asked incredulously.

“If the book says it, Draco, there’s no denying it.

“Now, could I see the notebook?”

Draco handed him it without a question, even though he had many. Dumbledore took the notebook from him and Draco let his thoughts roam freely. Was his Headmaster insisting that everything that happens it the book is true? Was this all just a part of a big joke? Was he just playing with him now? Is he—his Headmaster broke Draco’s thoughts by speaking up again.

“Okay, this seems in order. Can I keep it with me again?” Dumbledore asked, “I’ll give it back soon.”

Draco nodded. He guessed Dumbledore would do the same as on Tuesday morning. If so, he wouldn’t get much sleep because it would arrive at about four o’clock.

“Goodnight, then, Draco,” the Headmaster said.

“‘Night, sir,” Draco answered, getting up. He left the room and entered his dormitory a few minutes later, exhausted.

He dropped his bag next to his trunk and fell asleep in his bed almost immediately.

Draco was woken up out of a nice dream about Potter living with him and his parents and having a good life by Pansy shaking him.

“Get _up_ already, Draco! It’s morning!” Pansy called, “I know we had Astronomy, but we still have classes, you know!”

“All right, all right. Calm down, Pansy,” Draco shushed her, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“I’ll see you at breakfast, then,” she called before leaving the room.

Draco nodded sleepily. He opened his eyes and looked around. He frowned; there was no Phoenix to be seen, and no notebook. Draco felt disappointed; he was really looking forward to finishing the last two chapters.

A few minutes later, he took his seat next to Pansy in the Great Hall. She turned around at him.

“Only three periods today!” she beamed excited. Draco nodded and tried his best to smile back. He secretly wondered why that notebook was bothering him so much.

Draco was about to grab some food as a screech owl landed in front of him. He raised his eyebrows; it wasn’t his owl; he had an eagle owl. The owl was carrying a rectangular package in its beak. Draco took it, it was the notebook! He couldn’t help the smile forming on his face as the screech owl flew away. He looked over at Dumbledore at the High Table. Dumbledore gave him a subtle wink before returning to his food.

“What do we have first period?” Draco asked Pansy, trying to distract her from the package. Her eyes shot back up from it to look at him.

“Herbology, and then Transfiguration,” she answered.

“Thanks, I still have to get my books. See you at the Greenhouses?” Draco asked. Pansy nodded, and he left the Hall.

Up in the dormitory, he wasn’t actually planning to just take his books. Seeing as he still had about an hour and a half, he had decided to read one more chapter. He could see then if he still had time to study it. Either way, they had Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Draco knew he practically just had a free period then.

He lay down on his bed and opened the book.

It already frustrated Draco as those Muggles just left Potter there to figure it out himself. There’s a reason Muggles don’t know it! It did cheer him up a bit as Mrs Weasley helped him out, as much as he despised those red-haired blood traitors, as his father called them when he was in a good mood.

Draco was surprised Potter had never seen a moving picture before, but he guessed it made sense, having lived with Muggles for that long.

He laughed out loud at that stupid fake spell those Weasley twins had taught Ron Weasley, a perfect prank.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds as the book came to him, entering their compartment. Draco didn’t know if he was ready for it, but decided he didn’t really have a choice.

He read the part as quick as he could and continued reading at a normal pace when the scene had ended. Why did he suddenly feel so bad about the way he acted towards Potter?

Draco sighed at the end of the chapter and looked at the clock. An hour left, half an hour of time to work. He took all the things from his trunk and finished half of the chapter before he really had to leave.

After Lunch, he went back up to his dormitory and grabbed his DADA book and the four other things. He only hoped no-one would notice it if he worked on it in class.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was about just as boring as it had been the first lesson. Only this time, Quirrell lasted the whole period, so Draco had plenty of time to finish his notes. He didn’t dare read the next chapter, though, as it was nearing the end of class and he didn’t want a bored student noticing what he was doing.

After the lesson, Pansy asked him if he wanted to hang out with her in the common room. Draco felt bad to decline, saying he had work to do in the library. He figured the library would be a safe place for him to finish the last chapter since there was a chance the common room and dormitory would be crowded.

“All right, I’ll be in the common room then,” she answered, looking a bit disappointed. She turned around and left.

Draco hurried to the library as fast as he could. He didn’t know why, but the thought of the next chapter being called _The Sorting Hat_ really excited him. In the library, he quickly found himself a deserted table slightly out of sight. He sat down in the corner and began to read.

At the ghost part, he again got that superior feeling. And he had to hold back a smile as the Sorting Hat began to sing. However, he nearly fell out of his seat from surprise as he read the part where the Sorting Hat wanted to put _Harry bloody Potter in Slytherin_?! He quickly looked around to look if someone had seen him, but saw no-one else sitting at the only two tables in his sight.

Draco had to stop himself from singing as the Hogwarts song started. Draco had always loved singing, but his father had told him at a very early age singing was for women and girls and that men had to focus on more important things. He could still hear his words, bellowing in his head every time he wanted to sing...

_“You are a **boy** , Draco!” Lucius Malfoy had been screaming at a six-year-old Draco. “Singing is for girls, not for boys! I never want to hear you sing again, got it?!”_

_ Young Draco had nodded shakily, his whole body trembling in fear... _

He never forgot that, of course, and hated to Remember it. Draco secretly wondered what his father would say if he told them they had to sing a song at school. He would love to see his reaction on that. Maybe, one day, he’ll have the courage and the guts to tell him. One day...

He closed his eyes briefly, reminding himself his father wasn’t here, and allowed himself to sing the song. He kept it a whisper.

_“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_ Teach us something please, _

_ Whether we be old and bald _

_ Or young with scabby knees, _

_ Our hands could do with filling _

_ With some interesting stuff, _

_ For now they’re bare and full of air, _

_ Dead flies and bits of fluff, _

_ So teach us things worth knowing, _

_ Bring back what we’ve forgot, _

_ Just do your best, we’ll do the rest, _

_ And learn until our brains all rot.” _

Draco closed his eyes at the end. Nothing had changed, he still loved singing. He opened them again and finished the chapter, making a mental note to write down the Gryffindor password. He quickly reread the chapter, noting the important pages, and then reused his system for the whole chapter.

Draco sighed and leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed, at the end of his work. He had succeeded in Dumbledore’s task. Footsteps coming to a halt in front of the table he was sitting at interrupted his rest. He opened his eyes and looked up at Granger, her hair as tragic as ever and still in her school uniform, just as himself.

“What do you want, Granger?” Draco demanded, he hated talking to the Gryffindor. Well, just Gryffindors in general. Except Potter, maybe—Merlin, get yourself together, Draco!

“Just wondering why you were reading a blank book,” Granger responded in her bossy voice. Draco was about to sneer until he took in what she had said. A blank book? Draco looked down at the book and saw he left it open, and the pages weren’t ‘blank’ at all. They were filled with sentences.

Before Draco had the chance to call her out on it, she turned around and walked away. Draco convinced himself she must have been joking, but, while walking back to the Slytherin Dormitories after having worked on his essays for a good hour, concluded that he actually didn’t want her to be joking. If she was joking, it meant she could have read it. And Draco really didn’t want anyone to know he was reading a book about _Potter_ , let alone another Gryffindor.

Upon entering the common room, he immediately walked over to Pansy, sitting alone in a corner. Draco felt that guilty feeling rose again while looking at her. He was the only friend she had, and he just left her for maybe three hours.

“Hey, Pans,” he greeted as he took a seat on the couch next to her.

Pansy looked shocked. “Oh, Draco, you’re back? Finally, I was starting to wonder what you were doing up there.”

Draco let out a laugh. “Yeah, well—,” he started, but Pansy interrupted him.

“What _were_ you doing, actually?” she asked, looking straight into his eyes.

“Studying,” Draco answered truthfully. He took a deep breath and grabbed the book from his bag. “Can you read it?” he asked her carefully, showing her a random page filled with sentences.

Pansy looked from him to the book and back a few times, looking incredulous. “What do you mean ‘can you read it’? Of course not! It doesn’t even have words,” she answered, looking at him with disbelieving eyes.

Draco looked shocked, and he was. How, when he could read it, why couldn’t Pansy? And did Granger actually speak the truth? Could, maybe, only Draco read the book, and was that the reason Dumbledore wanted _him_ to do it? But what was so special about this book that made it impossible for others to read?

“Draco? Are you all right?” Pansy asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Can you really not read it?” he asked again quietly to make sure. Pansy shook her head.

“Can you, then?”

Draco nodded. “Follow me for a second.” He gestured her to follow him as he led her to the boys’ dormitory. He sat down on his bed and Pansy sat down next to him. Luckily, nobody else was present in the dormitory.

Draco turned towards Pansy. “Earlier, Granger came up to me in the library, asking me why I was reading a blank book. That’s why I asked you about it,” he explained.

“Oh. But how can you read it, but we can’t?” she asked.

Draco shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think Dumbledore can read it either.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, he gave me the book, and the first thing he asked was what colour it was. And then he asked me to study it and said I was the best person for the job. I didn’t believe him at first, but if it’s true nobody besides me can read it, I’m not only the best but also the only person who can to do the job,” he explained to her. She nodded.

“Then, that means it’s a very important job. Is that what you’ve been doing when you magically disappear?”

Draco nodded guiltily. “I’m sorry for not telling you earlier, Pans, I just didn’t want anyone to know about the book and I thought everyone could read it.”

“It’s fine. Now, care to tell me what’s it about?” she asked, curiosity filling her voice. Draco had seen the question coming and had his answer ready.

“Sorry, but no. You would just think I’m crazy,” he answered truthfully. Pansy looked disappointed.

“Okay... Let’s get up to dinner,” she said, changing the subject. She stood up and Draco followed her. “Just know you can always tell me anything, Draco,” she whispered before they left the room, Draco with a small smile on his face, happy to have such a great friend.

He allowed himself to rest the rest of the day, satisfied with the completion of his task.

(Text Copyright © 2019 MChanV)


	4. Testing

“What d’you think that was about?” Pansy whispered to Draco at breakfast the next day.

“Huh?” Draco responded confused, looking up at her. He had been too preoccupied by reading the eighth chapter of the book, deeming it safe in the Great Hall since no-one else could read it. Honestly, he was just too curious to not read it. He just got to a note when Pansy interrupted his reading.

“That letter, don’t tell me you didn’t see it. Potter got his first letter a few seconds ago,” she pressed on.

Draco hummed and read the note in the book. Then, remembering Pansy’s comment, his eyes widened as realisation dawned upon him. The note he had just read in the book was the same Potter had just received. He wanted to continue reading but Pansy started again.

“Honestly,” she was saying, “I’m surprised you didn’t notice, you’ve been paying an awful lot of attention to Potter this first week.”

Draco spluttered. “What are you talking about, Pans?” he asked trying to sound surprised, but failing miserably. The look in Pansy’s eyes told him she was right, and she knew it.

Luckily for Draco, Pansy soon returned to her food so Draco could get back to reading the book, he did only have ten minutes left before he should leave for Potions.

Draco was shocked as the book said he had to laugh about Potter not knowing a question from Snape. He secretly wished that wouldn’t happen, but he had a feeling it would, and that he would have to follow what the book said. He made a mental note to pay close attention to it and memorised a bit of the dialogue.

Draco read about the afternoon and secretly wished he could follow them. Not to skip class, but just to see if the book spoke the truth, since he still didn’t really believe that.

His opinion on it, though, changed quickly. As he sat in Potions, with the Gryffindors, Snape, just like the book had said, started with the register. Draco’s breath hitched as his godfather paused at a name he was sure of was Potter. And then, the words fell from his mouth.

“Ah, yes,” Snape said, looking over at Potter, his voice slightly softer than before, “Harry Potter. Our new — _celebrity_.” Then, just as the book had said, Crabbe and Goyle started sniggering. Draco quickly joined in, as it was seemingly the book’s intention he did.

Snape finished the register and called to the whole class, his voice a whisper, however, “You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making...” Draco didn’t exactly listened to the rest as he read it all before either way, and only did as if he was listening.

The lesson continued just as the book had written it, and Draco felt terrible when he had to do some things, like laughing if Potter didn’t know something. At times, he just wanted to scream at Snape that _it wasn’t his fault he grew up with the most intolerant, annoying, horrible Muggles ever!_ but kept his cool, following the book’s every word.

At lunch that day, Draco turned towards Pansy.

“I won’t be in class the last period, could you take notes for me?” he asked her, praying she won’t ask why he was skipping class.

“Okay?” she agreed, slightly questioning. But she didn’t pester him about it. Draco had a plan ready to get him out of there.

About nearly two hours later, he was running through the corridors, off towards that Hagrid oaf’s shed at the end of the Forbidden Forest. He wondered why anyone would want to live there. There, he hid behind the house, the book opened on the correct page. It couldn’t be long until Potter and the Weasel would arrive.

And indeed, it didn’t. A mere five minutes later, Draco heard voices nearing the hut. He payed close attention to any sentences said that were written in the book.

“ _Back_ , Fang — _back_.”

There it was, Draco hummed triumphantly. Although the prospect of the book knowing the future didn’t really bring him comfort. And he hated to admit it, but it actually made him kind of scared. He dismissed it and continued listening.

“Hang on,” he heard that Hagrid say, “ _Back_ , Fang.” Draco waited a few seconds before he spoke up again, his voice muffled slightly as he guessed they were inside now. “Make yerselves at home.”

“This is Ron,” he heard Potter say a few seconds later. Draco never really got the chance to listen to Potter’s voice, but for some reason, it calmed him.

Draco had to wait maybe a full hour before something excited happened again. Potter continued talking about his first Potions lesson.

“...and then he took another point from me. How could I know he’d been doing it wrong while I was focusing on my own potion?! I bet he just hates me.”

“Don’ say that! Snape likes hardly any o’ the students!” Draco heard Hagrid answer him.

“But he seems to really _hate_ me,” Potter insisted.

“Rubbish! Why should he?” Hagrid said, a few seconds later he continued, “How’s yer brother Charlie?” To Draco it seemed like he really wanted to change the subject, and that was enough for him. He focused his attention back on the book and read the article, perhaps at the same time as Potter seeing as only seconds after he’d finished, Potter spoke up.

“Hagrid! That Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might have been happening while we were there!”

Hagrid only grunted and responded with, “Want another rock cake?”

Draco thought he heard enough, as the book didn’t continue, and got up, making sure to not be seen by anyone from inside the hut.

Several minutes later, he entered the common room to a disgruntled Pansy making her way over to him. “Finally, there you are! Mind explaining where you’ve been hiding?” she demanded. Draco couldn’t fail to notice the playful tone in her voice.

“Business,” he answered, but gestured her to follow him.

Draco was delighted to see the dormitory empty. He turned towards Pansy after she had closed the door behind her. “It had something to do with the book, okay?” he told her, hoping she’d understand.

Luck seemed to be on his side that day because she sighed and muttered, “All right, I suppose it was important. I’ll go grab the notes.”

Draco smiled. “Thanks, Pans!” he called after her. Draco was left alone in the dormitory and made everything ready to work at his desk.

“Here.” She handed him the notes and sat down on his bed a minute later. “I also had to tell you from Flitwick that you had detention with him on Saturday, nine o’clock, his office,” she mentioned nonchalantly, spreading herself on Draco’s bed.

Draco hummed in acknowledgement. “Is it okay if I finish my work on the book? Then we can hang out.”

“All right,” Pansy gave in, “Can I stay here, though?” She smiled as Draco gave her a nod.

An hour later, they went down to dinner together. They spend the rest of the day talking together, before they decided it was time to sleep, seeing as someone had a detention the next day for skipping class.

Only late that night, Draco actually thought about what Pansy had said that morning. Had he really been giving him _that_ much attention? Draco thought back on Astronomy. He recalled Potter smiling and laughing with his best friend without a care in the world.

Draco couldn’t help the way his face heated up because of it. He figured it must have been because his laugh angered him. But he couldn’t keep his mind off of him until around one o’clock the next morning, when he finally decided it was way too late to be thinking about an unimportant Gryffindor. Maybe not really unimportant, just a Gryffindor...

(Text Copyright © 2019 MChanV)


	5. Tell me!

The next morning, Draco woke up and noticed he had slept in. He hastily got dressed, relieved it was Saturday because it was already nearing ten and first period would have started at nine.

He hurried up to the Great Hall and sat down next to a disgruntled Pansy at the Slytherin Table. She smiled at him, slight disappointment visible in her eyes.

“Hello mister I-know-I-have-detention-today-so-I’m-going-to-sleep-in. Good morning to you, too!” she greeted sarcastically. Draco smiled grimly at her.

“Then you should have woken me up. I didn’t choose not to do so,” he answered her sternly. Maybe his mood was so bad because of his detention.

“Yeah yeah.” She lowered her voice to a whisper so only he could hear her. “Can I know what that book is, by the way? It’s very intriguing, with only you being able to read it.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. He lowered his voice to the same whisper. “I don’t really know, actually. Dumbledore just told me to believe everything it said. Well, kind of told me.”

Pansy nodded slowly, sitting back up again. “Strange...” she muttered, more to herself.

Draco had a good morning and afternoon, spending his free-time chatting with Pansy and the rest to making their homework. They had an essay and a quiz from Transfiguration that Monday.

Later the day, they had gotten on the topic of school and Pansy mentioned briefly to Draco, “Monday, we’re starting with the wand-lighting charm, that’s what those notes are for. You better read them through at least once ‘cause that was all the theory.”

Draco nodded and made a note to take them with him during his detention, just as the book and all the other things.

At a quarter to nine that evening, Draco made his way alone to Flitwick’s office after ensuring the Prefects he did have a detention and that they could go with him if they wanted to.

The first hour of the detention was incredibly boring; he just had to sit there and listen to Flitwick’s endless scoldings. An hour into the detention, the door opened and Dumbledore entered.

“Professor Dumbledore!” Flitwick greeted in his annoying, squeaky voice. “What brings you here?”

Dumbledore smiled. “I wanted to thank you for giving Mr. Malfoy here detention so he could leave his Dormitories earlier.” Flitwick looked puzzled while Draco smiled in relief, remembering he had an appointment with Dumbledore he’d completely forgotten about with the detention. “Seeing as I have to have a word with him, I apologise that I have to bring his detention to an early end.”

“Bring his detention to an early end? He is here for a reason, Dumbledore!” Flitwick intervened. Dumbledore smiled calmly.

“That must be, but I can assure you that what I want, or need, to talk about with him is by far more important.” Something clicked with Flitwick, Draco saw it in his eyes as they widened; he, however, had no idea what that was.

“Him? Is he really? That’s—” Flitwick started, but Dumbledore stopped him with a knowing nod and another smile.

He turned towards Draco. “I expect you in my office in no less than ten minutes, Draco,” he said briefly, and he left.

After Dumbledore had left, Flitwick was staring at Draco with his eyes wide, making Draco feel slightly uncomfortable as he shifted in his seat. “Um... What was that about, Professor?” he asked him cautiously.

Flitwick gave him a smile. “Don’t worry about it, boy, you’ll find out soon by yourself. You better be off now; Professor Dumbledore really has something important to talk with you about,” he said, gesturing towards the door from where he was still standing, on his books.

Then it clicked with Draco. Dumbledore wasn’t the only one who knew about the book, Flitwick did too. Draco wondered how many more secrets were hidden within the castle he would soon come to find out. “How do you know about it?” he asked him.

Flitwick merely smiled at him. “Many teachers do, but time shall make itself clear. You better hurry off now or you’ll be late!”

Draco nodded apprehensively, getting up with his bag and leaving the room. He was aware he didn’t have much time, so he half-ran to his Headmaster’s office. He gave the password and went upstairs.

In the office, he sat down in the usual chair. The door had opened without a second’s wait and Draco had found himself in an empty room.

Too nervous to look around, he just sat there and waited for his Headmaster to return from his evening adventure.

A few minutes later, Draco got bored and stood up. He noticed a little note on Dumbledore’s desk and walked around to read it. It read:

_If you’re reading this, I’m waiting for you at the Astronomy Tower._

_ -Professor Dumbledore _

Astronomy Tower? Draco wondered. Is that where I have to go to? He decided it would be best and set off.

Nearing the Tower, a few minutes later, Draco heard voices coming from atop it.

“I can’t believe it’s really him...” the unmistakable voice of Draco’s Potions teacher said. Draco neared closer and looked around the edge, focusing hard.

“It surprised me, too, Severus, but the boy is doing an excellent job. May I ask, how did you find out? I wasn’t the one who told you, was I?” This time, it was Dumbledore who spoke up, and Draco silently wondered who they were talking about. It couldn’t be him, now, could it?

“I noticed it myself, Headmaster, during his first Potions lesson. It isn’t every day a student is reading a ‘blank’ book while in my class.” Draco’s eyes widened; it was him, Snape also knew about the book! But why? Why did every teacher seem to know what it was, but he couldn’t?

“Indeed, it isn’t.” Draco decided he couldn’t take it anymore. He gathered up all his courage and walked the last bit up the tower, his steps muffled and unnoticed by either of the two.

“And when are you planning on telling me?” he asked in a stern voice, almost demanding an answer. He felt very brave there, at the moment; an eleven-year-old _Slytherin_ speaking up to his Head of House _and_ Headmaster in such an almost degrading tone. 

Snape jerked slightly and both of them turned around to look at the boy. “Draco,” they called out simultaneously, in a different manner so. Snape almost shouted the name in surprise and even a slight fear was audible, almost as if it scared him, _terrified_ him to have Draco find out about anything going on. Dumbledore’s voice, on the other hand, was calmer, as if he was prepared for it, and maybe even planned it. Planned for Draco to walk up to the Tower after reading the note and overhear them talking about him.

Draco returned Snape’s shocked look and Dumbledore’s calm one with a very stern and demanding one of his own, trying to force an answer out of either of them. Still, he didn’t speak up, a pestering feeling in the back of his mind giving him the slight fear he might say something wrong.

Snape was the first to speak up again. “What are you doing here? After curfew?” he asked, as if searching for a way to change the subject and immediately get Draco to leave.

Dumbledore, however, was not quick to let the latter one happen. He turned towards Draco himself and asked calmly, “You read the note, I suppose, Draco?” Draco nodded stiffly, never losing his eye-contact. Even though he somehow knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, they wouldn’t answer his question.

Still, not keen on giving up and returning to his dorm empty handed, he asked again, this time sterner and demanding an answer, an honest one at that.

“ _When are you going to tell me?_ About everything that’s going on?!”

Draco had trouble not shouting out at the moment, anger rising inside of him, however, not at its full potential. As if waiting for the right time, if it would come. He frowned, neither of the two men standing in front of him seemed all too glad to explain it even the slightest.

In the end, Dumbledore sighed. “There is no need to worry about anything just yet, Draco. But I want you to promise me one thing. Can you do that?” Draco was dumbfounded, but nodded slowly, apprehensively. “I want you to promise me never to give up on the books, to keep them with you wherever you go, and _trust_ them. _Every — word — they — say._ ”

Dumbledore ended and Draco looked up into his old face. Asking much, aren’t you? He thought but didn’t say it. And what were those book _s_ he was talking about, he only had one. However, he dismissed it and gave his Headmaster another firm nod, muttered, “Promise...” and turned around to walk away.

Dumbledore’s reminder brought him to a halt. “The notebook, Draco?” Draco grunted, took the notebook out of his bag, handed it over and stalked away. The way to his Dormitories was quiet. Not only because the corridors were deserted, but also because his mind seemed to have stopped working completely. The usual thoughts about school, his parents, Pansy, and sometimes even Potter or the book were gone, vanished.

It felt as though he had stopped working, as if the spell leading his mind with little hesitation had suddenly stopped. He wasn’t thinking, not even slightly. For the first time in his life, he felt absolutely _nothing_. And he didn’t want to either.

He walked straight through the common room, ignoring all the stares seemed to be significantly easier than it should be. He made his way down the corridor of the boys’ dormitories, entering his. The four other boys looked up, but seemed to know better than to start a conversation with him. He dropped his bag, got dressed, climbed into his four-poster bed and pulled the hangings closed around it.

That’s when, in the newly formed silence, his thoughts seemed to restart, working faster than ever as if to make up for the lost time. His mind was in shambles, even Draco himself could hardly make out any coherent thoughts, and it was _his_ mind.

A few moments later, he calmed down his mind, letting it roam freely and slowly. He knew he distantly really wanted to talk to someone, talk about everything, _everything_. Every single thing he’s ever worried about, every single doubt he ever had. He had never had a person in his life to open up to.

Draco closed his eyes and sighed. His mind involuntarily wandered towards Pansy. _Pansy! Of course!_ Pansy was the one he could open his heart to. She would understand him, wouldn’t she? Draco thought back on what she had said two days earlier. _Just know you can always tell my anything, Draco_ is what she had said, or at least something along those lines.

And because Draco was getting hopeless, he decided something he would probably come to regret later; _he would tell Pansy, tomorrow, everything_. With that thought, he fell asleep into a shallow and uncomfortable slumber.

(Text Copyright © 2019 MChanV)


	6. A Shoulder to lean on

It was late in the day already, around eight o’clock. Draco and Pansy were both seated in the common room on their usual couch. Pansy was happily chatting away about whatever, but Draco wasn’t paying attention. His thoughts were racing, panicked, but determined. It was now or never, he thought and looked Pansy right in her brown eyes.

“I have to talk to you,” he blurted out, in a low voice for any eavesdroppers. Pansy looked quite taken aback. Draco knew she hated being interrupted when she was talking, but her gaze softened quickly, as if knowing this was important to Draco.

Draco stood up and so did Pansy. He led her down the corridor to his dormitory, which was luckily empty, and sat down on his bed. Pansy took a seat on a chair next to it and started, “So, what is it, Draco?”

Draco fidgeted with the rim of his button-up before meeting her eyes. He couldn’t hide the desperation in his own and saw her brows furrow. “Draco?” she asked again, her voice worried. Draco couldn’t take it anymore. All those years of not being able to open up to anyone, of keeping everything to himself. He simply broke.

“Pansy... I, I can’t take this anymore... any of this...” he muttered, looking at the ground. All the secrecy of his headmaster only adding up to the usual pressure of being the Malfoy heir. Tears started forming in his eyes, although he tried to hide it, to not let them fall. But he knew he hadn’t a chance.

Pansy sighed, moving to sit next to him on his bed, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, Draco, you can tell me...” she whispered, giving him a reassuring smile as he looked up. Draco smiled back slightly.

“Everything is just too much...” he started, trying his best to keep himself together at least a little longer, “Everything... the responsibilities of being the Malfoy heir... my father’s pressure... school... having to be the best...” He sniffed as a tear started rolling down his cheek. He felt a warm hand wipe it away and looked at Pansy, smiling soothingly at him, understanding shining slightly in her eyes.

“And... and then that book... and the secrets surrounding it...” he continued, still looking at Pansy, more tears staining his pale cheeks. “Dumbledore knows what it is, Snape knows what it is, even bloody Flitwick knows all about it!” Draco felt the anger of the night before rise inside of him again.

He jumped off the bed and out of Pansy’s grip. He had no idea how, although as young as he was now, he hadn’t broken before already. “Why am I the only one who can read the bloody book!?” he shouted, “Why do I have to do this?! Why not someone else?! WHAT IS THIS BLOODY THING!?” He threw the book which he had picked up off his bedside table, at the wall. He immediately regretted it, though, as it fell open on page 1. He read the title, _The Boy Who Lived_.

He calmed down slightly and closed his eyes, allowing the tears to fall freely. No one else besides him and Pansy were here, and he trusted Pansy completely.

He ignored the ruffling coming from his bed.

Draco didn’t know why. He had no idea how the girl had gained his trust in less than a week. His father always told him he couldn’t trust anyone, let alone girls, but it just felt so _right_.

He flinched when he felt two slender arms surrounding his upper body. Opening his eyes, Draco looked right into Pansy’s shoulder. Understanding her meaning, and feeling slightly more at ease, Draco dropped his head in her shoulder, returned the embrace only half, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the proximity, and cried. Cried for, how long, he couldn’t remember. Cried freely for the first time in his life. Cried until his tears vanished, his throat dry, and Pansy still embracing him, running a hand slow and comforting over his back, calming him.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffed when he stopped, but didn’t let go of the girl he now held in a stronger embrace.

“It’s fine, it’s all fine,” she responded soothingly, stroking his hair carefully, knowing Draco really cared about it.

“I want to tell you everything,” he whispered into her shoulder, the words muffled but loud enough for Pansy to catch. “Do you promise to keep it a secret?”

He felt her head nod and she let go of Draco, sitting down on his bed and patting the space next to her with her hand. Draco, his eyes slightly red from the crying, sat down and fidgeted with his hands until Pansy stopped him, laying her own on top of them. He took a deep breath and explained everything.

He explained about the book being about Potter, giving some specific information about everyone being so secretive about it. He moved on to the usual talk about his father, of which he so often thought when he couldn’t sleep. Pansy described it as ‘abuse’ but Draco assured her it wasn’t as bad. “Not as bad as Potter has it, at least!” he had said jokingly, but still meaning it.

They talked for probably over an hour, only stopping as they heard voices nearing the dormitory. It was hardly noticeable anymore that Draco had been crying. She gave him a last hug and went to sleep. That night, he had the best dream ever. And he noticed how he didn’t need to be completely free; he just needed a shoulder to lean on. A best friend. One he just found, only a week ago. That’s what the dream was about, and that’s why he couldn’t stop smiling in his sleep.

The rest of the week was calm. Draco checked his book often, _too often for it to be healthy_ , Pansy had said on Tuesday, but Draco didn’t care. He was waiting for the book to continue, and he wanted it to, desperately.

After telling Pansy of the book being about Potter, Draco noticed it was the single worst thing that could ever happen to him. He was joking, of course, he knew of worse, though he rather not thought of it. But ever since he had told her, she had been teasing him about it.

She nudged him every time Potter would enter the same room they happened to be in, would make snide comments whenever she would catch Draco staring at him. She _loved_ reminding him about this ‘obsession’ she said he had. Draco had denied this immediately because there was _no single way_ he’d ever be obsessing over that Gryffindor!

Then, finally, Draco opened the book late one morning to find fresh sentences written on it in the newly formed next chapter: _Chapter 9, The Midnight Duel_. He couldn’t help himself and immediately started to read, only for Pansy to come in right as he was examining the sentences.

New sentences were being written, _actually_ written, though there wasn’t a quill visible. All wrote themselves at different speeds, some faster, some slower, in whichever amount of time they were happening, Draco guessed. Draco noticed Pansy walking up behind him, looking at the book as well.

“Is something happening?” she asked curiously from over his shoulder. Draco, remembering she couldn’t see it, nodded.

“The sentences are writing itself! It’s like they’re writing what’s happening!” he beamed excited, keeping his gaze locked on the book.

“Do you think they’re happening now?”

Draco read, or studied, a few of the new sentences before answering, “No, tomorrow. Tomorrow’s our first Flying lesson with the Gryffindors and they’re talking about it tomorrow morning.”

“Hmm...” Pansy was deep in thought, Draco saw it in her eyes as he turned around and followed her with his gaze as she sat down on his bed. “Do you bet it’s showing what’s happening in exactly twenty-four hours?” she wondered, looking up at Draco.

Draco raised his eyebrows, wanting to laugh at first, but then thought about it. Could it be possible, possible that the book is so magical it can track time down to the exact second _and_ change the day? “Maybe...” he muttered. “We’ll have to find out tomorrow, right?”

Pansy nodded enthusiastically, probably glad Draco was involving her in all of this despite his insecurities and trust problems, of which he had informed her last Sunday evening were mostly because of his father. “Let’s go have breakfast first.” She stood up, smiling, and Draco followed her out the common room towards the Great Hall. “We’re continuing with the Wand-Lighting Charm first period!”

“Hey, Draco,” Pansy whispered to him in the common room that evening, catching his full attention in the blink of an eye. They only ever talked about important matters in whispers; the book, mostly. “Can you see if I have to do something special tomorrow? In the book, I mean...”

Draco was confused about what she meant at first, but understood she wanted him to tell her what was happening so she could adjust herself to it, just as he told her he did. He gave her a curt nod and jerked his head in the direction of his dormitory.

She followed him quickly, and they sat down on Draco’s bed, Draco with the book in his hand, ready to read. “Give me a few minutes,” he muttered and began reading.

He could skip to the first page before he saw his name, reading it through well. He had to come up to their table tomorrow with Crabbe and Goyle, snatch the Remembrall and scowl before giving it back. Skipping a bit, he noted a few things Potter noted. He had to say a few words and then; he turned towards Pansy. “You got a line!” he mentioned excited.

She instantly grabbed the book, but gave it back soon after, probably remembering she couldn’t read it. She smiled sheepishly at him and he rolled his eyes. “I’ll read it...

“ _‘Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom? Never thought **you’d** like fat little cry babies, Parvati.’_

“You have to say it right after a Gryffindor girl called Parvati Patil makes a comment. I’ll give you a sign,” he said to her. She nodded, taking it all in. He read the next of the chapter in a haste until it ended. He’d have time later to actually note things down. For now, he just had to memorise as much as possible so he would know what to do the next day.

He dismissed Pansy, telling her that was all and that the rest of the chapter had to be a surprise, _and a big one at that!_ he had told her. She left with a shimmer of disappointment, but also with a shine of excitement lingering in her eyes from when he told her her part.

Draco fell asleep quickly that night, repeating the sentences, his ‘script’, in his head until he drifted off.

Draco woke early the next morning, just as he had planned. He got dressed, grabbed the book, met up with Pansy in the common room and went down to breakfast with her.

There, he read over his lines again and again, Crabbe and Goyle joining his side not long after, until Pansy nudged her. He instantly looked up to see Potter and his _oh so lovely_ friends enter the Great Hall and sit down at the Gryffindor table. From then on, they pulled his attention towards them.

A few moments later, he looked up to see the barn owl fly towards the place _they_ were sitting. He nudged Crabbe and Goyle, gesturing them to join him, and put up his best stern face before walking over to the table.

Nearing there, he heard the end of Longbottom’s sentence, “... you’ve forgotten something...” that was his clue to ‘walk past’ and snatch the Remembrall out of his hand. Just like the book had said, Potter and the weasel jumped to their feet, probably hoping for a reason to fight Draco.

“What’s going on?” Professor McGonagall called out, looking from Potter to Weasley and to Draco. The latter preparing himself for his line.

“Malfoy’s got my Remembrall, Professor.” That was his clue.

Draco scowled as best as he could manage and dropped the Remembrall back on the table. “Just looking,” he said and turned around, gesturing Crabbe and Goyle to follow him.

Out of their eyesight, Draco dismissed the two and walked back towards Pansy, who was waiting for him at their table, an expecting look in her eyes. “And?” she pushed as he took his seat next to her.

He smiled mischievously at her. “Just as planned,” he whispered. “Now we only have to wait for Flying this afternoon.”

And waiting they did. They revised their lines often, Draco having the most trouble with them because he had the most. Plus, he also had to remember actions, whilst Pansy didn’t.

They hurried towards the grounds before anyone else and Draco studied the place, making out how high and how far he had to fly. The nerves were killing him and he had no idea why he was so desperate to do this right. He stopped as the other Slytherins neared and put his full attention to Potter when he _finally_ arrived. Did he always have to be later than anyone else?

He took care of holding his broom wrong for sure, although Madam Hooch corrected him different from how he usually flew. Draco guessed it must have been true he had always done it wrong and felt his cheeks heat up slightly from embarrassment. Then everything went incredibly quick.

Longbottom flew up and fell, Madam Hooch took him to the hospital wing, and then, it was time for Draco.

He started laughing and exclaimed, “Did you see his face, the great lump?” He frowned slightly as the other Slytherins joined in, even Pansy.

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Draco heard the line and looked up at Pansy, he winked. She straightened herself, looking right at the girl who had just spoken, Draco figured that must be Parvati Patil.

“Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom? Never thought _you’d_ like fat little cry babies, Parvati,” she called and Draco followed her up.

“Look!” He walked towards the Remembrall a few feet ahead and picked it up. “It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran send him.”

He held it up and his heart jumped as he heard the whisper. Wait. His heart jumped? Never mind, on with the story. “Give that here, Malfoy.”

Draco gave him his best nasty smile, but maybe he just wanted to smile... “I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect — how about — up a tree?” He let his eyes shift to one and mouthed ‘look!’ at Pansy before jumping on his broom when Potter spoke up again, louder this time.

“Give it _here_!” Draco flew higher, as high as the book had described.

“Come and get it, Potter!” he called down after situating himself. In the time Potter was arguing with Granger and flying up, Draco looked down towards Pansy’s shocked face, smirking at her.

He returned his attention towards the important matter as Potter called out, “Give it here or I’ll knock you off that broom!”

“Oh yeah?” He tried his best to sneer but his mask faltered and he probably just looked worried, preparing himself for Potter coming at him.

“No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy,” Draco heard him call after he had only just avoided him. He himself was still recuperating from the shock. He had still surprised him and he flew _amazing_.

Getting back into character, he shouted, “Catch it if you can, then!” And he threw the Remebrall in the air and flew down. He didn’t want to look back up at him for the sake if it went wrong and he’d fall.

“What was that about?” Pansy whispered to him as he landed.

“What the book said,” he returned in a whisper, daring to look up at Potter right as he caught it. Draco had to fight back a smile but failed drastically. He was glad Professor McGonagall came quick, so he didn’t have to hide his ‘triumphant’ face.

“What’s gonna happen now?” Pansy asked Draco as Madam Hooch dismissed the lesson early.

“Well, Gryffindor has a new Seeker, that’s for sure!” He smiled, but his face dropped as he continued. “And I’ll have to challenge Potter to a Wizard’s duel at dinner...” he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up at Pansy.

“I know you can do this,” she whispered, “and you don’t _have_ to attend, just leave it alone and see where it gets you.”

Draco smiled at her and nodded before heading to the Great Hall for an early dinner and a revision of his sentences.

About an hour later, Potter entered the Hall and Draco knew he had mere minutes to confront him. He walked over to Crabbe and Goyle and told them to follow him. Right as those twin-weasels left, they neared the table.

“Having a last meal, Potter?” he sneered at him. “When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?” Draco wanted to slap himself after saying that. Never, ever would he ever want Potter to return to _them_ , _those_ Muggles!

Potter brought him back to reality by saying coolly, “You’re a lot braver now you’re back on the ground and you’ve got your little friends with you.” Draco heard them, Crabbe and Goyle, crack their knuckles at that.

Draco mustered all his courage together and said, “I’d take you on any time on my own. Tonight, if you want.” But I don’t... “Wizard’s duel. Wands only — no contact. What’s the matter? Never heard of a Wizard’s duel before, I suppose?”

“Of course he has,” the weasel said in his annoying voice. Now Draco came to think of it, Potter’s voice was actually completely not as annoying as any other Gryffindor. Like he was different, special. Special to Draco? He internally shook his head. He had missed the end of his comment but had luckily read it in the book. He looked at Crabbe and Goyle, already knowing who he’d choose, but delaying it to make it seem realistic.

“Crabbe,” he answered in the end. “Midnight all right? We’ll meet you in the trophy room, that’s always unlocked.” He walked away without another word, knowing already he’d never show up there and hoping Potter would be smart enough not to do so as well.

(Text Copyright © 2019 MChanV)


	7. Midnight Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Notes at end of chapter**

Draco paced up and down his dormitory, deep in thoughts. Earlier that evening, he had challenged Potter to a Wizard’s duel. He wasn’t planning to go, never had that intention, but he had the feeling Potter would and that had kept him busy for a good hour already.

Pansy exhaled deeply from her place on Draco’s bed. “Stop the pacing and read the bloody book if you want an answer,” she half-shouted in irritation. Honestly, how would you feel if there was someone walking in front of you for an hour?

Draco looked up at her, his eyes wide. “Why didn’t you say that earlier!” he exclaimed, hurrying towards his nightstand and grabbing the book. Pansy raised her eyebrows.

“Did you really _not_ consider it?” she questioned, looking incredulous at Draco. Draco sighed and sat up against the headboard of his bed.

“No, I did not, Pansy. And I would appreciate it if you’d let me read,” he said and started reading as Pansy didn’t do more than huff.

A few minutes later, Draco gasped at a line that read: ‘ _“Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.”_ ’, catching Pansy’s attention.

She turned to him and asked, as if in a hurry, “What? What is it?”

Draco raised his hand and read a few more sentences before looking up at the girl. “I have to tell Filch they’re coming,” he half-whispered, as if in shock. Come to think of it, he might have been in a slight state of shock at that moment.

Pansy looked at him incredulously. “You have to do _what_?! Tip them off to Filch? What good comes from that?”

Draco shrugged, but showed a sudden desperation. This was what the book wanted him to do, so this is what he would do. He looked at Pansy and said, “I’m going now,” before leaving the room and walking through the common room, out in the corridors of the dungeons.

There he started his search for Filch. He didn’t have to search long as all he had to do was follow Mrs Norris, who had luckily found him quite soon, right to him.

“Mr Filch?” he called out as he was in earshot.

The caretaker turned to him with a disgruntled look on his face. “What’s the matter, boy? Painting fallen? Toilet flooded? Spit it out.”

That took Draco aback slightly but not for too long as he answered only mere seconds later. “No, nothing of that kind. I only wanted to inform you of a meeting from a couple of first-years in the trophy room at midnight,” he finished quickly, feeling slightly bad and guilty about handing them — mostly Potter — over.

This time, it was Filch who looked taken aback. It took him a short moment longer before an odd, lob-sided smile formed on his old, tattered and ugly lips. “I shall see to them, boy!” he exclaimed before turning around and stumbling away.

It was with a deep feeling of guilt that Draco went to sleep that night, and he could hardly think of the problems Potter would get, not knowing since he hadn’t finished it yet. Sleeping was even worse since his dreams were solely about _Potter_! Potter this, Potter that! It was starting to seriously annoy Draco, and he sleepily wished for the morning to come soon.

And so it did. Draco woke up early the next morning and looked at the clock to see the arm at five. He sighed and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his hands. He quietly crawled to the end of his bed, towards his trunk, and opened it to take out freshly washed robes. He soundlessly got dressed, pocketed his wand, and grabbed the book and the other things. He sat down behind his desk and started reading, reminding himself to immediately write the important pages so as not having to reread the chapter.

Draco had to sustain a gasp as he slammed his hand in front of his mouth when he read about the danger in the third-floor corridor. His eyes filled with worry, he willed himself to continue reading, silently hoping Potter, of all people, would come out unharmed. Draco didn’t even question the superiority Potter had in his mind at that moment.

Draco let out the breath he didn’t even realise he was holding as the group got to their dormitories unharmed. Draco knew that he should feel sad about them not getting caught or — Draco shuddered at the thought — eaten by that giant, three-headed monster. His father certainly would not approve of his behaviour; but he was in the back of his mind while Potter was up front.

He read on, by far more relaxed, even laughing at the reaction of the Fat Lady.

A few sentences later, the last one of the chapter, Draco accidentally let out an audible gasp. He looked up with his eyes widened alarmingly as he heard Blaise roll over in his bed mere metres away. He sighed and read the end once more, smiling. _Smart, Harry... That’s where it is..._ he thought, finding himself caring less at the use of the Gryffindor’s first name than before.

He turned to the start of the chapter, grabbed the notebook, pencil and parchment with the important pages, and began to note the information. His next meeting with Dumbledore would be that Saturday, the next day, so he finished the chapter quickly.

It still took some time since he had to stop every time a boy would wake up and look like he wasn’t doing anything suspicious, like reading a blank book or something. Theodore Nott had been the first to wake up at a quarter past six, a full fifteen minutes later than the first week of school. Seems like school’s worn him out, Draco had thought as he had watched the boy’s morning ritual while trying to not seem like a complete pervert. It’s not like he was gay, after all.

Blaise had soon followed at half past, only to have been followed by Crabbe and Goyle around seven. Draco was convinced they only awoke early to eat more. He sighed once he was alone again and finished the last part in a little under an hour. He grabbed his stuff for the day and trotted out the dorm, common room and dungeons, up to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Draco was grateful for having read ahead the next chapter as far as he could. That way, he knew to put on his best surprised face as he saw Potter sitting at the Gryffindor Table when he entered the Hall. He swiftly took his seat next to Pansy and filled her in on everything that had happened in a low whisper.

All she could do was look at him in awe, her eyes showing she lived with the victims that had had to meet that monstrous ‘dog’. She patted his back and gave him a soft, warm smile before they both returned to their food.

Later that morning, Draco realised he absolutely despised Snape’s way of teaching. Yes, he was his godfather, but that’s no reason for why he can’t hate his teaching method. And Snape’s teaching method was downright unacceptable, hate-driven and preferred praising, most of which seemed to be to the wrong people in Draco’s mind.

On the outside, he had to look like he backed up his every word, obviously, but on the inside he apologised over and over to Potter, and sometimes to his friends and even less to the other Gryffindors. Just like that morning, Potter had this strange, superior position in Draco’s mind and he had no idea how the Gryffindor could earn him that place.

He dismissed it with a smile he played off as being glad Snape had just taken a point from Granger for knowing the answer to a question again. In his mind, though, he silently thanked her for helping him figure out the fact only he could read the book.

The rest of the day went by relatively quick and Draco spent a lovely evening with Pansy. He was genuinely glad to have such a great friend and made sure to never make her forget what she meant to him.

He went to bed early and quickly fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, the golden writing on the book glinting in the left-over light that fell into the dorm-room. Only visible for _his_ eyes.

Draco awoke late that Saturday morning by Pansy, calling him out of his bed. He hastily got dressed and continued his day quite relaxed. Daytime mostly considered of studying. They had one quiz and three essays that Monday and finishing them all on Sunday would be impossible.

Draco was glad to have Pansy keeping him company throughout the day, but a little less glad that he would have to be making his way up to his Headmaster’s office at a quarter to ten that evening. Pansy had tried to get him to relax, but to no avail. Draco shuddered while wondering what Dumbledore would say if he found out most of the things that Thursday had happened because of him. Would he still be allowed to read the book?

Or, even worse, what would happen when he found out about Potter and his friends entering the out-of-bounds third-floor corridor? He was scared to dead by the time Pansy nudged him to get ready to leave. But not wanting to anger Pansy, did so. He rushed to get ready and, after she had pulled him into a last, comforting hug, quickly fled the common room.

Draco sighed while making his way through corridor after corridor. Nothing really happened, and his horrible thoughts luckily didn’t become reality like he thought they would. Draco found that the last two weeks felt too good to be true. Nothing terrible had happened, only good things. But Draco found out after rounding a corner that that would soon change.

Usually, Draco had an excuse for being out after curfew because of his meetings, but he had been strolling aimlessly through the corridors and Draco guessed it was already past midnight. His excuse had faltered and he would have to pay the price the horror around the corner had brought to him.

He didn’t notice it at first, only a slightly odd feeling of a mysterious presence in the corridor, until he looked down. There, on the ground, stood Mrs Norris, looking up at Draco with her yellow cat eyes. Draco’s breath hitched as the cat turned tail and ran away, obviously getting Filch.

He was in for it now, he decided, but turned around none the less. He ran for maybe a full minute before a dark figure ran out a corridor in front of him, blocking his path. Draco heard a shrill laugh and his eyes widened horrified when he noticed who it was.

“You foolish boy! No meeting with the Headmaster now, have you?” Filch, the Caretaker, taunted, walking closer to Draco who stood there, as if petrified. “You shouldn’t be in this corridor either way!” Filch pointed behind Draco and he turned around, looking right at the third-floor corridor.

He looked back at Filch and gulped; knowing he was about to get the same faith as Potter where he’d have to decide between a three-headed dog or a one-headed slave terrified him. Luckily, Filch caught him before he would enter because, just like the Gryffindor, he’d chose the latter.

Another hollow laugh from Filch shook him out of his ‘day’’dream’. “Follow me, boy!” he screeched, turning around and walking towards the dungeons. The walk was silent, leaving Draco alone to his thoughts.

His thought were racing, though, and Draco was scared. Not scared of what kind of punishment Snape would give him, though. Severus was his godfather and the most he’d do is take off a few points and a detention. And that was already the most. So, no, he wasn’t scared of that. He was scared of what Pansy would say the next day...

Earlier, he had told Pansy it wouldn’t take too long. Draco guessed she’d be waiting for him down in the common room. At first, he had planned to return immediately, but got caught up in his thoughts and took a wrong turn. In took him maybe half an hour to find his way back.

After that, he just continued walking through the school, as if he were mapping everything. The castle was enormous, he soon found out after he got lost a second time. He guessed it would take at least half your time at Hogwarts to know where everything was.

He looked up when he heard someone knock on wood and was shocked to see they were already in front of Snape’s room. A second later, the door opened to reveal Severus, in his nightwear. He looked from Draco to Filch, his gaze showing his obvious annoyance of being woken at such a time.

“There was a student out of bed, sir,” Filch started. Snape raised his eyebrows and looked back down at Draco. Okay, this was a lot scarier than he had imagined. “This boy here,” he said as he gave Draco a little shove.

Snape nodded. “You can leave, Argus,” he stated simply, his stare still stuck on Draco. Filch scoffed before turning around and leaving. When he turned around the corner, Snape let out a long, disappointed sigh.

“Care to tell me what you’re doing out this late, Draco?” he asked, Draco shifted nervously on his feet, staring at the ground.

He took a deep breath and looked back up at Severus. “I...” he started, deciding to just tell the truth, “I had a meeting with the Headmaster at ten and I started wandering through the castle... I’m sorry, sir, I lost track of time...” Usually, a Malfoy would never even think about sincerely apologising, if it wasn’t to save their own skin, but he knew Snape and Severus knew him and no-one was around so he figured I’d be all right for once.

Snape sighed. “First, Draco, no formalities when we’re alone. Second, that is five points from Slytherin and I would like you to return to your dormitory this instant,” he finished scolding. Draco always forgot Snape was still his godfather in situations like these, and that they only needed to be formal in another’s presence.

He nodded and turned around, saying, “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again, Severus.”

“I sure hope it won’t, Draco. Don’t think the book can get you out of all your trouble,” Severus scolded. Seconds later, Draco heard the door fall shut, and he took a deep breath before turning around and going further down the corridor towards the Slytherin Dormitories.

Upon going through the door, Draco saw a shadow rising from its seat in a dark corner of the room. The figure hurried over to Draco and his eyes widened in panic and slight fear, though he’d never admit that, when he noticed who it was. Pansy Parkinson. Oh Merlin, he was going to get hell.

“And where do you think you were out to this late at night?!” she scolded as she came in earshot, suddenly being only an inch or two from his face with hers, Draco saw her eyes burn with anger. “It’s nearly one o’clock! You said it wouldn’t take too long!” she continued, her voice showing just how furious she was.

“Pansy,” Draco started uncertainly, “c-calm down, okay?” That... was the most wrong thing to say to a girl _ever_! The fire in her eyes only blazed stronger. Draco was sure to remember to never ask or tell a girl to calm down. Ever.

“Calm down? Calm down! Calm down my arse! Apologise for your tardiness right — this — instant!” she bit. Draco backed away slowly until his back was up against the wall.

He swallowed thickly. He swallowed his pride and muttered, “S-sorry, Pans... I-i got lost once... o-or twice...” Honestly, this was scarier than his father being angry at him for laughing too loud in front of guests, this was hell and Draco was sure to remember just to never anger her ever again.

She visibly calmed down after the apology and went in for a hug. Draco hugged her back hesitantly, fearing another outburst. But there wasn’t one, instead a soft whispering against his ear. “I’m sorry for getting angry. I was just worried about you...” Pansy whispered, Draco wondered if he imagined her voice shaking.

He hugged her fully now, enclosing her in a strong embrace. “It’s fine, Pans. But I’m tired now so I better be off to bed.” He pulled out of the hug and smiled up at her. She wasn’t much taller, but the height difference was obvious this up close.

“All right,” she said, hugging him one last time and turning around to the girls’ corridor. Right before disappearing, she turned to Draco again. “Goodnight!” she exclaimed, suddenly a lot more cheerful. And she turned around and vanished for real.

Draco sighed. “‘Night,” he said, but wasn’t sure she heard it. He made his own way to his dorm and hastily did everything needed and soon fell asleep. He only hoped Pansy would have mercy on him tomorrow and let him sleep until at least nine. He hoped.

(Text Copyright © 2020 MChanV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I just wanted to say that I will be adding a chapter to Destinia every Saturday or Sunday. I also have two other stories, one of which I’m not yet sure I will post. The one I will probably be posting is a Drarry one after the war in their eight-year called Ravenclaw’s Secret. That’s all I will say! Bye and thank you for reading my story!


	8. Unwanted Smelly

Draco woke up early on Wednesday, the next week. The day before, the book had continued and Draco was thrilled. For some reason, he was incredibly proud of Potter getting on the House Team and really wanted to talk with him, although he knew he had to stay in character.

He got down quickly, telling Pansy not to disturb him too much that day. Draco was sure by her smile she knew it was because of the book. In the Great Hall, he left just as the six owls brought the broom. He had to wait for him in the Entrance Hall with Crabbe and Goyle.

The two boys followed him without a question and did exactly as he said, as not five minutes later, they had halted Potter and Weasley in the Hall. Draco took the package of a disgruntled Potter, feeling it and acting oblivious.

He fabricated his best jealous and spiteful look as he said, “That’s a broomstick.” He threw back the parcel and continued, “You’ll be for it this time, Potter, first-years aren’t allowed them.” It surprised him how well he could act.

“It’s not any old broomstick,” Weasley said. Draco rolled his eyes, aware it wasn’t in the book. He didn’t follow the rest of his talk and prepared himself for his next line instead. Was this how it was in theatre?

“What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn’t afford half the handle,” Draco snapped at him, glaring, “I suppose you and your brothers have to save up, twig by twig.” He stopped and listened to the light footsteps nearing behind him.

“Not arguing, I hope, boys?” Flitwick squeaked in his annoyingly high-pitched voice.

Draco took a quick, deep breath and followed quickly. He feared too quickly to be believable. “Potter’s been sent a broomstick, Professor.”

Draco skipped the rest of the conversation, at the right times faking looks of ‘horror’, ‘obvious rage’ and ‘confusion’. Naturally, he didn’t really feel like that. He knew about everything that had happened in advance and was actually proud of Potter for being such a natural and being good in at least one thing. Draco figured that must be an accomplishment for him.

Draco dismissed Crabbe and Goyle, who hurried off to the Great Hall for leftovers of breakfast, and was joined by Pansy as he looked to the top of the marble staircase where Potter and Weasley were arguing with Granger. One day, those three would become the best of friends if they won’t leave each other alone.

“So,” Pansy nudged him as the boys and girl had vanished, “what was that all about?” He explained quickly to her about the broomstick and the conversation. “Is there more to do today?” she asked as he finished. Draco nodded.

“Tonight, at seven, Potter’s going to learn how to play Quidditch from Wood, his captain. I’ll follow them and watch from a distance.”

Pansy chuckled. “Are you sure you’re not obsessed with him? I mean, following him that late?” she asked him incredulously. Draco felt his cheeks heat up slightly.

“Of course I’m not!” he exclaimed wildly. “I’m just curious and want to know how much of the book is true.” He lowered his voice slightly at the end. Pansy looked at him for a few seconds.

“Sure you do, lover boy,” she said, turning around and going towards the Charms classroom. Charms, that’s right, first period, he reminded himself. He quickly caught up with her.

“What do you mean with that?” he asked her. She shrugged.

“Figure it out.”

Draco ate his dinner slow, waiting for half-past six to come. At that time, he would make his way over to the Quidditch pitch to watch Potter’s training. Pansy kept bothering him, though, insisting he’s just obsessed with Potter. He wasn’t, right? He was just curious about the book. Either way, it was nothing really new for Draco so it didn’t bother him that much.

At half past, he dismissed Pansy and exited the Great Hall. The Hall itself was almost empty, except for a few fat students. Draco figured it would be better for them to not eat at all for a few months.

He happily made his way over to the Quidditch Pitch across the Grounds, the thought of seeing Potter fly again lifting his mood. At the Pitch, he stayed hidden from view while having a reasonably good view himself. He sat on his knees; the book opened on the ground in front of him on the correct page, hiding in the shadows of the early nightfall.

It didn’t take long for a figure to make its way onto the pitch, one Draco soon recognised as Harry Potter. He smiled to himself as he saw the other boy fly through the sky, not a problem on his mind, probably. Oh, how much Draco would give to be in his position, soaring, high, higher, way higher than the top of trees and over hills. Grazing the water of the Lake and pulling up straight towards the sky, night or day, it didn’t matter, only to dive back down. He just wanted to feel free, just like Potter, free from everything in his life, for even just a few minutes. But Draco knew one thing for sure: no way in Hell would he ever give up the book for this.

Draco didn’t know why, but the book gave him a strange sense of comfort. It’s true, Draco had always loved books and reading, but this one was just... _different_. But the good different, Draco decided. He soon became entranced by Potter, who was still flying.

He didn’t even notice at first that Wood had entered the field and called him down. Only following Potter downwards and his eyes falling on him had him remembering he had followed the book here. And a book always had a reason to include a scene. This time, the reason was that Potter would learn how to play Quidditch, and Draco was happy about that.

From the distance he was now, he couldn’t hear their conversation. Instead, he looked down at the book and read it. Draco had gotten quite interested in the difference between Wizards and Muggles, but now he was even more. This ‘Basketball’ Potter was talking about… He had insisted it was alike of the Chasers throwing the Quaffle through the hoops. It really intrigued him what those Muggles could come up with knowing they didn’t have flying broomsticks or Charmed balls.

Draco had his mouth gaping open as he watched Potter and Wood’s practise. Salazar, Potter’s good... Draco thought. He had never seen anything like that from an eleven-year-old. _That_ ’s what you’d call a natural. It disappointed him as they left the Pitch, but understood that it was too dark to continue practicing. He left a while later, making sure not to get caught by them of all people. Aware it was at least ten minutes past his curfew, Draco hurried down to the Dungeons as quickly as possible.

In the common room, he ignored anyone who wanted to spark up any kind of now meaningless conversation with him and went straight towards Pansy, seated in a corner of the room. He took a seat next to her, smiling brightly while mentally recalling the flying practice. Pansy smirked.

“So, how was it?” she asked him.

“Even better than expected, he’s a right natural at Seeking,” he responded, making sure not to make his voice too loud. She nodded.

“Care to study for our two upcoming tests tomorrow? Or do you want to continue dragging on until you can stare at him again during Astronomy?”

Draco spluttered. “What?” he asked incredulously, trying to cover up the heat covering his cheeks. “Let’s just study,” he decided.

“Okay,” she said, and Draco followed her to her dormitory, ignoring all the shocked stares of the Slytherins in the common room.

After the book’s last entry, five weeks ago, Draco’s life had returned to that of most students walking the corridors of Hogwarts. It was a basic schedule for the school days; waking up, breakfast, classes, lunch, classes (none one day a week), dinner, sleeping. The time in between was reserved for studying and for some, Quidditch practice. On his strolls across the grounds of Hogwarts, he’d often seen a Quidditch team practicing. Slytherin and Gryffindor the most (he always watched whenever his eyes noticed Potter among them), at times Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

Draco easily recognised them by their colours; green for Slytherin, red for Gryffindor, blue for Ravenclaw, and yellow for Hufflepuff. He took these strolls quite regularly, sometimes with Pansy tagging along. Long walks had always done him good, let alone near waters. It was a way for him to get away from his life and responsibilities, to come at peace with his surroundings and to relax.

Now, he noticed, it was mostly just an excuse he used to get away from homework. His homework wasn’t all that difficult, however, let alone Potions. Potions was, after all, not just Draco’s favourite subject, but also his best one. And that was not just because his godfather taught it. In truth, it was kind of a bad thing. With Severus teaching a class Slytherins and Gryffindors combined, he never stopped poking in the Gryffindors’ mistakes and loved to practically harass them in front of the whole class.

In any regular setting, Draco honestly couldn’t care less about Gryffindors. There was, however, the small issue of one of those Gryffindors being an ebony black-haired, emerald green-eyed boy with a name so famous the average Slytherin would kill to never hear of again. Too bad for them there were laws against that. And, yes, Draco had made that ‘perfect’ description of Harry Potter himself during the times he analysed (“I wasn’t staring, Pansy, just analysing!”) him during Potions, Astronomy, Flying lessons or meals.

During that time, he wasn’t necessarily forgotten by his parents; his father sent him letters almost daily (of which he answered most, careful not to mention anything about the book) and his mother occasionally (three to four times a week) sent him a box of sweets. That was the fun thing of being him, Draco had mused one night after having eaten one whole box. He could eat all the sweets in the world and still remain as thin as ever.

At the beginning, Draco checked the book sometimes ten times a day to Pansy’s obvious annoyance. He had worked to build off that habit and now only checked it once, at most twice, a day. Which was way more reasonable in Pansy’s eyes.

Yes, Pansy, she was still a big part of his life. Even bigger than at the beginning of their friendship. Over the past two months, they had grown inseparable, always sitting together during their lessons, at meals and in the common room. Sometimes falling asleep together at the latter after a long night of what had started off as studying, but which had soon changed into an exchange of rumours. Many people would call that ‘girly’ talk, but Draco had found himself enjoying it thoroughly.

He was glad to have a friend like Pansy, someone to laugh with and, Draco’s pride crumbled every time he remembered it, open your heart to. Draco still remembered that day vividly, the day he’d broken down. He was honestly so glad Pansy had never brought it up again and even refrained from going deeper in on sensible topics like abuse or any of the kind.

The homework also started to get more over the time, but nothing Draco couldn’t handle with a bit of studying. After all, now there was nothing more happening with the book, there wasn’t really anything else to do. One thing Draco did have to keep in mind from the book was to be a git to everyone from Gryffindor, which, in the first place, wouldn’t necessarily be a problem. There was, however, the problem of a certain ebony black-haired, emerald green-eyed boy who happened to be in his year and in Gryffindor for which Draco had grown a strange sense of respect.

Still, he swallowed that respect and acted as much as a git towards him as he did towards every other Gryffindor. Maybe even a bit more...

On the evening of Hallowe’en, Draco sat down on his bed in his dormitory, Pansy next to him, both with plates filled with food. Draco thought it was crazy, what had just happened maybe a mere five minutes ago. He could easily recall exactly what it was...

_Draco had made his way into the Great Hall for the Hallowe’en feast earlier that evening, Pansy at his side. They had sat down and waited for the feast to begin._

_ Right when the food had appeared and Draco had reached out for it, Quirrell had come running in. With terror portrayed on his face and his turban askew, he had run towards Dumbledore. _

_ Once there, he gasped, “Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know.” A mere second after, he had collapsed on the floor and the Great Hall was in an uproar. _

_ Dumbledore had quieted everyone and sent them away to their Dormitories. _

Honestly, what an idea to bring a whole house to their Dormitories, _in the dungeons_ , Draco thought back. He concluded their headmaster just really didn’t like Slytherins, too bad a _Slytherin_ was working for him. And since it seemed a pretty important task, Draco gloated, and only he could read the book, Dumbledore would be stuck with him!

Then, as thunder, it struck him. He dropped his plate, despite Pansy’s surprised look, jumped off his bed and hurried towards his trunk. He opened it and searched for a certain item. It had been so long since he had last looked at it. Two days, if he recalled correctly, which did feel too long.

Finally, with a sound of triumph, he reached out under a pile of books and took one particular book out of it, the green lamps giving the golden letters a strange glimmer, and the cover as dark as it had always been. He smiled and sat back down on his bed.

“What’s wrong, Dray?” Pansy suddenly spoke up before he even had the chance to open it.

Draco looked up at her with a small, almost knowing smile. “You know that troll Quirrell warned us about earlier?” he asked her, she nodded. “That’s not anything usual, now, is it?”

She frowned but shook her head. “What are you getting at, Draco?”

Draco smirked, lifting the book. “And what little friend of ours always causes trouble?”

He saw her eyes widen and she let out a laugh. “Of course!” she exclaimed, smiling.

Draco smiled back, seemingly holding her up because she urged him, “Come on! Are you waiting for him to walk in and tell you himself?!”

That shook Draco out off his daze. He gave her one last smile and glance before opening the book on where it had ended last time. And, just as he had guessed, it had continued.

Draco shook his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. He had kept such a close look on it all this time and then, just as he stopped for a few days, planning on enjoying Hallowe’en, it continued with valuable information.

He skipped the Charms class and immediately went to the attack. Wow, he mused, a while later when he had finished, taking on that troll on their own. His father had always warned him about some magical beings and how to defend yourself against them, but for trolls he hadn’t really gotten more information than: Run, try to confuse it, run and don’t look back.

He looked up to find Pansy staring at him, her eyes longing and curious. He gave her a small, playful smile and began telling her about the attack and the troll.

At the end, she gave him a meaningful look. “You know what this means, right?” He looked at her quizzically, before dropping his gaze to the last page.

He heard Pansy speak up again, but kept his gaze on the page, looking at how the words she said burned themselves into the paper in golden ink.

“There are some things you can’t share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.”

(Text Copyright © 2020 MChanV)


	9. Overhearing

That troll was a surprise, Draco had to admit, but there was no time to sit around. With Hallowe’en behind and November started, the first match of the Quidditch season was getting close. It would be between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Gryffindor had a new, quite interesting Seeker Draco was sure of would play. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Draco was excited to see him play a real match.

Now, it was the last Potions lesson before the match the next day, and Draco decided to play with Potter a bit more. He stood, waiting for him, in front of the classroom, Pansy Parkinson to his right for emotional support, Crabbe and Goyle to his left for physical support. Potter had just walked around the corner and was nearing the classroom, his usual cronies, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, at his sides. As they neared and saw Draco, Potter tried his best to ignore him. Weasley made a nasty face and Granger just frowned.

Draco, however, only smirked. He took a step forward from where he was leaning against the wall and rounded on the trio. “So, Potter,” he started, sneering amused. “Think you’re ready for tomorrow? Suppose you practiced a lot, huh, wouldn’t want to disappoint your _oh so faithful_ followers...”

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Weasley immediately came to his defence, the annoying git. Granger’s frown deepened while Potter’s face stayed neutral.

“And who am I to listen to poor weasels like you?” Draco shot back, giving him a quick glare before refocusing on Potter. “What? Do you want us to stand there with mattresses, ready to catch you?”

He paused for a second to look the Gryffindor up and down. “Mhm,” he continued, meeting his eyes. “That would be exactly what you’d like, wouldn’t it? Your greedy, little git self wants everything for your own. Everyone has to follow your command, huh?” He finished with a smirk as he finally saw the black-head grit his teeth and frown.

Weasley was sending him death glares and seemed ready to lunge at him right as Severus turned the corner. They made their way inside and the lesson commenced.

The lessons of the day had ended and Draco sat in the Slytherin common room with Pansy, practicing the sunlight charm for Charms that Monday, when a first year from Draco’s dorm asked their attention. Draco recognised him as Blaise Zabini.

“Yes?” Draco asked, almost a bit rudely. Zabini smiled at him.

“Are you two... dating?” he asked, still smiling knowingly as if he already knew the answer.

Then, before Draco could answer him, a frown already formed on his forehead, a third-year spoke up. “They couldn’t be,” she said matter-of-factly. “He shouldn’t be able to enter the girls’ dormitory if he was straight.”

Draco’s stomach turned. “Are you insisting I’m gay?” he said, almost offended. His father surely wouldn’t approve of that, right? They’d disown him the second he or his mother knew. They never really spoke about it, but it would mean he wouldn’t be able to have biological children, except forced. He faintly recalled his father yelling at him, telling him to never like the same gender ever. Salazar, he had almost forgotten that one. If only he could...

She, however, only smiled. “There’s nothing wrong with being gay, really, and I’m not saying you are. But, be honest, the only boys who have ever got to enter the girls’ dormitory were as straight as a Quaffle.” Many of the others seemed to back up this statement. Everyone just smiled, some laughed a bit. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco noticed Nott looking displeased and wondered what was up with him.

Then, a seventh year spoke up. “It’s rarely spoken of, as it’s not something that happens daily, but it’s fully accepted in our world.” Several people nodded.

Draco frowned, a dilemma playing in his mind. “But what about children? Two men or women can’t biologically bear children, can they?”

The seventh year, along with more students of upper years, laughed. “Oh, the innocent! Still so young and pure!” a sixth year exclaimed, “You like Potions, don’t you? When you’re a little older, go look for a good Potions book in the library, will you?” She smiled down at him.

Draco nodded hesitantly, a bit overwhelmed by what just happened. Pansy just gave him a smile.

“Didn’t you know that before?” Pansy wondered a while later. They had retreated to Draco’s dorm after that whole thing had happened in the common room and the stares were getting uncomfortable.

“No, my father never told me,” Draco responded, going to sit on his bed.

“That’s weird. Such a traditional family and they didn’t even tell you being gay was all right,” Pansy stated, gazing out the window.

“On the contrary,” Draco contradicted her. “My father always told me it was wrong to like the same gender.”

“Wrong?!” Pansy shrieked. “Not telling you, all right, but telling you it’s wrong? That’s just outrageous.” Draco shrugged, hugging his knees to his chest. “Maybe he did it to protect you,” Pansy muttered, playing with a few strands of hair that had come loose from her ponytail.

Draco laughed. “Yeah, right,” he muttered, hugging his knees even tighter and resting his chin on them. “‘Protect me,’ as if he’d ever do that.”

“Maybe...” Pansy considered, returning her gaze to Draco. “Or maybe he just didn’t know better.”

Draco nodded absentmindedly, his eyes eyeing the book on the bedside table. He started to reach out for it before Pansy stopped him. He looked up at her, confused. “You wouldn’t want to spoil it, right? Wait for tomorrow,” she answered his confused look.

Draco smiled and nodded. “All right. But let’s go to sleep and make ‘tomorrow’ come soon.”

“And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor...” Lee Jordan’s voice reached above the general noise of a crowd during a Quidditch Match, but Draco tuned it out, focusing instead on the boy flying a few metres above the others. Nothing much happened the first couple of minutes, only a few loop-the-loops from Potter when Johnson scored, also scoring to bring a smile upon his face.

As the Gryffindors neared the posts from Slytherin again, Lee Jordan pulled everyone’s attention to the sighted Snitch. Draco sat at the edge of the bench as the two Seekers fought to be the first to reach it. He clasped a hand in front of his mouth to avoid screaming out as Marcus Flint, captain of Slytherin, blocked Potter in the middle of his dive. The crowd was chaos in those few minutes, most of them, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, but also some Slytherins, verbally attacking the fifth year. Draco noticed Wood, captain of Gryffindor, giving him a disagreeing look, but he didn’t look angry, just exaggerated.

When everything had calmed down again, Draco hoped for a calmer end of the game. Things, however, tend not to work out all the time, as the crowd’s attention was pulled towards the Gryffindor Seeker. Draco was probably the first to notice that the boy’s broom was acting strange, but soon most people were pointing up at him.

Draco felt his heart beat out of his chest, scared, although he’d never admit it, the boy would fall off and get hurt badly, or... die. And that nearly happened; Draco’s breath hitched as Potter held on with only one hand. He couldn’t watch this anymore. He shared a worried look with Pansy, his chest tight, before closing his eyes and tilting his head towards the ground, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

After what seemed like hours, Pansy nudged him, whispering, “It’s over.” He looked up to see Potter searing towards the ground, and seconds later, he had caught the Snitch. With his mouth, no less. Draco tried to look displeased that Slytherin had lost, but that wasn’t really an option. He quickly left the pitch, Pansy on his heals behind him.

“Nice match, huh,” she commented once they were out of view from anyone.

Draco thought different. “Well... although Potter almost died, I suppose...” he muttered. Pansy smirked.

“Yeah, yeah. You and your Potter-obsession!” she said jokingly. Draco gave her a look and they both burst into laughter.

They stopped abruptly as four people, three dwarfs and one giant, made their way off the pitch. Draco narrowed his eyes and quietly followed them. Pansy, after rolling her eyes, followed closely on his heals.

They followed the trio and Hagrid up to Hagrid’s ‘house’ and hid beneath the window, out of view from those inside and those who’d exit the pitch to go towards the school. The only way they’d be seen would be if someone exited the Forest, but that was Forbidden for a reason.

As they crouched, Draco signed to Pansy to keep her mouth shut before turning his attention to the open window and listening to the conversation going on inside.

“It was Snape,” Weasley stated, Pansy and Draco shared a disbelieving look. “Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn’t take his eyes off you.” At this, Draco’s disbelieving look changed into a confused but curious one. Pansy frowned, shaking her head and shrugging.

“Rubbish.” The voices continued; this time, it was Hagrid speaking. “Why would Snape do somethin’ like that?” The two hidden Slytherins shared another look, one of agreement this time. That’s right, Draco thought. Severus would never try to kill Potter, even though he hates him.

“I found out something about him,” Potter started suddenly. Draco perked up and strained his ears to listen better, ignoring Pansy’s inaudible sigh and head-shake. “He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Hallowe’en. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it’s guarding.”

He finished, and Pansy and Draco shared another look. _This is important_ , it seemed to say. They heard a soft thump before Hagrid spoke up again. “How do you know about Fluffy?”

“ _Fluffy?_ ” Potter exclaimed, voicing both his and probably Pansy’s thoughts.

“Yeah — he’s mine,” he continued, “bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las’ year — I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—“

“Yes?” Potter urged eagerly.

“Now, don’t ask me any more. That’s top secret, that is.”

“But Snape’s trying to _steal_ it.” Draco and Pansy shook their heads.

“Rubbish,” Hagrid insisted. “Snape’s a Hogwarts teacher, he’d do nothin’ of the sort.”

“So why did he just try and kill Harry?” Granger cried. Draco noticed Pansy unconsciously biting her bottom lip. What was up with that?

“I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I’ve read all about them!” Granger continued, and Pansy focused even more on her words than the others’. “You’ve got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn’t blinking at all, I saw him!”

“I’m tellin’ yeh, yer wrong!” Hagrid almost bit, Pansy returned to normal. That would be something Draco could have some fun with. “I don’ know why Harry’s broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn’ try an’ kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh — yer meddlin’ in things that don’ concern yeh. It’s dangerous. You forget that dog, an’ you forget what it’s guardin’, that’s between Professor Dumbledore an’ Nicholas Flamel—“

“Aha!” Potter exclaimed triumphantly, sharing Draco’s thoughts. “So there’s someone called Nicholas Flamel involved, is there?” After Potter said that, they heard chairs move inside the hut and the trio left, looking even more ecstatic than after they’d won the match.

Draco and Pansy left soon after, deciding to put it off for the day and talk about it the next. That afternoon, Draco finished all his work on the book up until the last chapter added: _Chapter eleven, Quidditch_ , and went to bed late that night, laying awake and straining his mind to remember something, anything, about a Nicholas Flamel. But he couldn’t recall hearing the name before then.

(Text Copyright © 2020 MChanV)


	10. Christmas Break

It was the next day, a Sunday, when Pansy and Draco made their way together to the lake. They decided that would be one of the safer places to discuss matters they shouldn’t even know. Draco had his backpack with him. In there were a couple of things: the book, notebook, pencil, eraser, sharpener, two rolls of parchment, a quill, a spare quill, and ink.

They settled down beneath a tree, and Draco took out the book and laid it in his lap. “So,” he started, looking at Pansy, “where should we start?”

“What about, Hallowe’en?” Pansy asked. Draco thought for a second but shook his head. “Where then?”

“Let’s start at Diagon Alley,” he decided, opening the book at the beginning of that chapter. Pansy raised her eyebrows, confused.

“Why there?” she asked. Draco looked up from the book to meet her eyes.

“Well,” he explained, “before Potter went to Hogwarts, he went to Diagon Alley for all his school things. That’s were I met him as well, but that’s a different story—“

“You’ve told me a few times already,” Pansy intervened, smirking.

“Shush!” He cleared his throat. “He went there the day that Gringotts break-in happened. Wait—“ He took the book and went to the page with the article, showing it to Pansy before remembering she couldn’t read it. “I’ll read it...

“Gringotts break-in latest. Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts _31 July_ , widely believed to be the work of _Dark wizards or witches_ unknown. Gringotts’ goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied _earlier the same day_.”

He looked up at Pansy. “31 July was the day Potter went to Diagon Alley, it’s believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches, so Hogwarts would be the safest hiding spot, and the vault had been emptied earlier that day. Earlier that day, Hagrid emptied a top-secret Hogwarts business vault!” He finished with a smile on his face.

“So that means the one who wants to have that... thing... was there the day Potter was there. Is there something in the book about a mysterious person?” Pansy wondered. Draco’s eyes widened in realisation as he quickly went back to the scene in the Leaky Cauldron.

“Pansy, you’re a genius!” he exclaimed, “Listen to this!” And he read her the part about Quirrell. After he finished, he turned to Pansy, whose mouth hung open slightly. “Did you notice anything strange about Quirrell during the match?”

She looked down thoughtfully. “There was something... I think I saw Granger push him over...” Then, her eyes widened with realisation. “Of course!” she exclaimed, “Because Granger pushed him, his eye contact was broken! He was the one jinxing Potter!”

Draco thought so too, and he felt a sudden desire to at least severely injure that so-called teacher. Let’s see how he is against actual Dark Magic. His murderous thoughts must have shown on his face as Pansy nudged him.

“Wait until Potter finds out, then you can kill him together,” she joked, Draco gave her a small push as she started laughing. He crossed his arms and turned away, pouting childishly.

“But what about Snape then? Granger can’t have been mistaken...” Pansy said thoughtfully. Draco smirked.

“Oh, _can’t_ she?” he teased, earning a pinkish tint on her cheeks.

“I’m being serious, Draco!” she exclaimed wildly. Draco stopped laughing.

“Right, yeah...”

“Is there a way he was saying a counter-curse?” Pansy muttered, more to herself. But Draco heard it and snapped his gaze towards her.

“Since when do you seem to know everything?” he asked her, she shrugged. “Wait,” he said, as he started going through the pages.

When he found the part, he looked back up at her. “I think he suspects Quirrell,” he started explaining, “Snape got bit by that Fluffy during Hallowe’en, making the trio suspect he tried to get past it. But we know better. What if Quirrell let that troll in, and Snape knew and went to the third floor, thinking Quirrell would be there. But he was mistaken, it was a trap, Quirrell wasn’t there and the dog bit him.”

As he finished, Pansy looked at him triumphantly. “Can you read through your notes and see if there’s anything more?” she asked him. He nodded and they went through his notes together.

It was late that afternoon that they went back to their Dormitories. They passed the library and saw the trio busy... reading? Draco halted his steps. He knew Granger read often, but Potter and Weasley? Pansy noticed this and took a look in the library.

She turned to Draco. “Do you think they’re trying to figure out who that Nicholas Flamel is?” she asked him in a whisper.

“Salazar, Pansy, you really do know everything today, don’t you?” he joked, but knew she had a point and that they’d better do the same. They decided earlier on waiting until Christmas break so they could ask their parents, but if those three found out about him before Draco...

Draco shook his head and continued walking to the Slytherin Dormitories.

The weeks leading up to Christmas break were relatively nice, Draco decided while making his way to the dungeons for the last Potions class of the term. In two days, they would be back on the train home. At least those who went home of course.

Draco did feel sorry for Potter and his ‘family’, and certainly understood why he wanted to stay at Hogwarts. He would have done the same.

But besides those thoughts, and the secret discussions of his and Pansy’s plan, there were also nice moments. One morning, the grounds of Hogwarts were layered with a big pack of snow, and the lake was frozen solid. He himself had hidden beneath a tree with Pansy, enjoying the scenery and using the time to work on their plan, when many of the other students had entered the grounds.

Most of the younger years were just playing around in the snow, but what excited Draco the most was the Weasley twins bewitching snowballs to fly after Quirrell. It might not have helped much about his malicious thoughts of all the things he wanted to do to him, which often resulted in him murderously killing his teacher, but it certainly caused a good laugh.

In the classroom, he made sure to follow the book again. He walked in, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle following him, and sat down in his usual seat. As the class begun, he said, while looking at Potter, and loud enough for him to hear, “I do feel so sorry for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they’re not wanted at home.”

It was a relief to see the Gryffindor ignoring him, rather than attacking.

After class, Pansy went ahead, as she wasn’t mentioned in the next part. Draco made his way out the room right after the trio left, Crabbe and Goyle following closely behind.

Upon seeing the trio halting in front of a giant tree that was blocking the hall, he quietly prepared himself for his lines. His queue followed suit.

“Nah, I’m all right, thanks, Ron,” Hagrid’s scruffy voice came from behind the tree.

“Would you mind moving out of the way?” Draco said in his best attempt at a cold drawl. He turned his attention on Weasley alone and continued, “Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose — that hut of Hagrid’s must seem like a palace compared to what your family’s used to.”

Weasley looked furious, and Draco prepared himself for it. A mere moment later, the red-head dived at him, grabbing the front of his ropes. Draco stayed calm, knowing his saviour was—

“WEASLEY!” Severus’s voice bellowed through the hallway.

—right there. Weasley let go of him and Draco straightened his robed with his hands as Hagrid tried defending Weasley.

“Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid,” Snape accused solemnly. “Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be granted it isn’t more. Move along, all of you.”

Draco hastily pushed past the tree, Crabbe and Goyle following, and he could swear he saw Granger throwing him a suspicious look. Did she notice anything going on? Draco hoped not.

Draco caught up with Pansy in front of the Great Hall, hidden behind a suit of armour. He gave her a thumbs-up, before shutting up and focusing his attention on the approaching squad.

They sneaked to the door as the four went inside and listened closely.

“How many days you got left until yer Holidays?” Hagrid was saying.

“Just one,” Granger answered simply. “And that reminds me—“ Now the two hidden Slytherins were all ear. “—Harry, Ron, we’ve got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” Weasley’s voice answered.

“The library?” Hagrid again. “Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren’t yeh?” Draco almost snorted at that.

“Oh, we’re not working,” Potter said, excitement dripping from his voice, filling Draco as well. “Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we’ve been trying to find out who he is.”

There were a few moments of silence, before Hagrid spoke up again. “You _what_?” Unlike Potter’s, his voice was filled with shock. “Listen here — I’ve told yeh — drop it. It’s nothin’ to you what that dog’s guardin’.”

In his voice, Draco knew he was trying to convince them, but Draco, and probably Pansy, knew it was pointless. Let alone when Granger, in her sweetest, most innocent sounding voice, said, “We just want to know who Nicholas Flamel is, that’s all.”

“Unless you’d like to tell us and save us the trouble?” Potter added, hopefully, although hopeless sounding. “We must’ve been through hundreds of books already and we can’t find him anywhere — just give us a hint — I know I’ve read his name somewhere.” The thoughtfulness and sureness in his voice was all Draco needed to turn around and gesture to Pansy to follow him to the Slytherin Dormitories.

They only had around half an hour to work, before they’d be announced missing for lunch. They hurried and were in front of the wall in minutes. Saying the password, they continued inside and hurried up to Draco’s dormitory.

There, Draco threw himself on his bed, Pansy seating opposite him; he took out the book and notebook and started going through his notes.

At last, he triumphed, finding the part about the Chocolate Frog Card. He gave Pansy a small nod before starting to read the card out loud, “Albus Dumbledore, currently Headmaster of Hogwarts. Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood and _his work on alchemy with partner, Nicholas Flamel_.”

He stopped there, having enough information. He looked back up to Pansy to find she’d been attentively listening and scrabbling things down on a spare piece of parchment. She, too, looked up as he halted.

“So,” she started hesitantly, “how are we going to ask our parents about it without sounding suspicious?”

Draco grimaced. “Yeah,” he agreed, “Just asking them won’t do the trick...” He looked down in thoughts until Pansy spoke up again.

“Didn’t you once say you were interested in studying alchemy?”

Draco’s head shot up. “Yeah, I am... Maybe I can just ask them about some of the better alchemists and their inventions?”

Pansy smiled. “That’s a nice idea. Don’t forget it, all right?” She added the last part jokingly, receiving a soft hit from Draco.

“Of course not, you prat,” he responded just as joking. “We better get going, it’s nearing the end of lunchtime.”

“We’re here,” Pansy announced, making Draco look up from the book he was reading. He looked out the window and noticed the train slowing down. They had reached King’s Cross. “Don’t forget to ask them,” Pansy whispered as they left their compartment.

Draco, grinning slightly at the though of their plan, answered, “Same for you,” before stepping down onto the platform. Pansy gave him a short hug before walking off with her mother.

“Draco!” Draco heard his mother’s voice call him and he turned around to look at her, smiling.

That smile vanished as he saw his father walking up behind her. Merlin, no... Draco thought. Father saw Pansy hugging me...

Lucius indeed didn’t look too happy. “Who was that, son?” he asked sternly, ignoring his wife’s disagreeing look.

“Pansy Parkinson,” Draco answered, just as sternly. Act like a Malfoy, he reminded himself. “Slytherin first year, Pure-blood.” He made sure to spit her blood status with enough pride. His father still looked at him disapprovingly, while his mother smiled sweetly.

“I’m glad you’re making friends, darling,” she said, before urging him to follow her a small distance from his father. She lowered her voice as she said, “There isn’t anything going on with you and her, right?”

Draco felt slightly taken aback, but hid his shocked expression and shook his head. “Of course not, mother, I wouldn’t jump into anything without your and father’s approval,” he stated highly, knowingextra reassurance was always handy in situations like these.

Narcissa smiled softly. “Good,” she breathed, calling her husband over. Together, the three of them made their way outside the station, into a deserted alleyway, and Apparated home.

On the way back to London, Draco hadn’t been exactly reading, though, he had been thinking, thinking about Potter and Christmas. Lying on his bed a few minutes later, he knew he shouldn’t think about him during the holidays, but he couldn’t keep his mind off of him. Besides, his main task at home was asking his parents about this Nicholas Flamel.

Now, on the subject of Christmas, he had gotten an incredulous idea, and his mind was actually trying to convince him to go through with it. You know, maybe it wasn’t his mind... since his mind was still thinking logically... but what was giving him these thoughts, then? Draco only knew of one thing in his body that could ever have a will of its own; his mind. So he was rather lost about the reason why he wanted to send Potter something to do with Gryffindor House. Though he supposed it wouldn’t hurt.

He just had to remember to ask his parents if he could go to Diagon Alley tomorrow. He could just say it was for a Christmas present and not mention who it was for. Then again, would it be a smart idea? He’d have to send it anonymously, and he didn’t know if the book would like that.

Draco’s eyes shot open as he stared at the light blue painted ceiling of his room. He suddenly realised he had no idea if the book would punish him for not following it. He sighed heavily, tried acting like a Gryffindor and find the bravery to go down and ask his parents either way, but quickly decided Gryffindor really wasn’t anything for him. Good, old Slytherin was where it’s at.

In the end, he did decide to go through with his original plan, but just waited until he was called down for dinner.

Downstairs, he took his seat at the long dining table. The dining room was beautifully decorated. The walls were painted white, decorated with golden linings. The ceiling was painted golden, and a crystal chandelier hung over the middle of the mahogany table. Ten-ish mahogany chairs were placed at each side of the table, one more at each head. It really was a beautiful scene, and those entering the Manor for the first time, would think the whole Manor was as paradisal as this room.

Sadly, Draco didn’t have that opinion about the Manor since he knew what was hidden beneath it. Miles and miles of dungeon-like paths lined with cells, every now and than a torture room breaking the pattern. Rough walls, blood splatters, green, ominous lighting... For those who knew, being inside the Manor, let alone as a guest, was like waiting for the minister of magic to sentence you years in Azkaban. This was why Draco had never liked staying inside, and how he’d started practising Quidditch in his free time.

“Mother, father,” he greeted, giving each of the individuals a nod.

“Draco,” Lucius nodded back, usual familiar smirk in place. He was wearing plain black work robes, though silver lines were stitched in the design and the Malfoy crest was embroidered on his chest. “Tell us, how was your first term at Hogwarts?” Draco, knowing his father, caught onto the slight disgust at the word ‘Hogwarts’. He understood his father still mustn’t be on board with his wife’s choice to send him there. She had argued that it would be safer for him, because it was nearer to home. Draco had wholeheartedly agreed, though he’d never told his father about that.

Draco smiled softly, just the right amount for a Malfoy. “It was fine. The school was a bit confusing at first, what everything with a will is, but getting used to it didn’t take all that long.” His father nodded, smirking proudly at his son. “I’m Slytherin, naturally,” he added highly.

“There is just this one thing about _Harry Potter_ being in my year.”

Both Narcissa and Lucius hastily hid their shocked expressions, but Draco saw it flicker across their faces and nodded definitely.

“He’s Gryffindor,” he continued. His parents looked approvingly at the loathsome tone Draco had used for the name.

“Then, it wasn’t that bad, right?” his mother asked, not afraid to show the slight worry in her voice. Her robes were a light green, with the same silver lining and crest embroidered. Green, silver and black were the Malfoy family colours. Draco smiled softly again, and nodded.

“Son,” Lucius started sternly, pulling his attention from his mother. “If I find out there’s something going on between you and that Pansy Parkinson...” he threatened slowly, and knew Draco understood what he meant so stopped there.

Draco nodded slowly. He took a deep breath before sharing a glance with his mother, knowing he had the best of luck with her. “I was wondering if I could go to Diagon and Nockturn Alley tomorrow, since I forgot to get someone a present for Christmas.” He kept his voice steady, not showing hesitance or doubt.

Lucius did look doubtful, though. “And for who might that _present_ be?” he asked slowly, and Draco felt like he was being x-rayed by the look his father was giving him.

“I don’t think he wants us to know, Lucius,” Narcissa cut in, giving her husband a disapproving look. “It must be someone from school, isn’t it, darling?” she asked, turning to Draco. Draco, feeling slightly taken aback, nodded stiffly. “Of course you can go,” she said, smiling. The rest of dinner was relatively silent, only a couple words of small talk every now and then.

That night, Draco slept peacefully, the book on his bedside table. He had reread the first chapter, and planned on rereading what was already written this holiday.

(Text Copyright © 2020 MChanV)


	11. The Punishment

It was mid-winter, which was made obvious by the amount of snow, layering the streets of Diagon Alley as Draco stalked through them, looking for the right gift. Earlier the morning, he had convinced his parents, mostly his father, to let Pansy stay over from Boxing Day until the end of break. One thing: in his haste to think of a present for Potter, he had completely forgotten to get his parents and Pansy one.

His mother wasn’t difficult. Just like him, she loved reading books. When he’d walked past a bookstore, he’d bought a book he thought fitted for her. It was a fantasy book about some Mages, and he was sure she would love it.

While walking past a fancy looking perfume store, he bought a bottle for Pansy, since she had been complaining to him how horrible her old one smelled, but that she didn’t want to go through the trouble of finding a good one herself. Draco sighed. Merlin, that girl...

His father was a different story. Draco knew he didn’t expect, but he still felt obligated to get him something. He knew his father liked politics, potions, just like himself, and... Dark magic! Draco’s face split into a smile. He was planning to go through Nocturn Alley later, so he could look for a fitted gift then.

Now, he was aimlessly walking the streets, looking desperately for a fitted gift for the last person on his list, aside from his father, then. The cold was also getting annoying, he decided as he adjusted the dark green scarf around his neck. He had never had a good resistance against it. He was about to go for a drink in the Leaky Cauldron when he heard a female voice call out his name. He turned towards it and hastily hid his bag of presents as he saw Pansy hurrying towards him, Mr and Mrs Parkinson taking their time to keep up with her. She was wearing a black winter cloak over dark brown robes, lined with light blue, a dark brown scarf winded loosely around her neck, light blue mitten covering her hands.

“Hey Pans,” he greeted, hugging her for a second, before pulling back and giving her a warm smile. “How are the holidays going?”

Pansy returned his smile. “Good!” she beamed happily, but sobered slightly as she asked, her voice worried, “And yours?”

Draco gave her an understanding smile but shook his head in exasperation. “You worry too much, everything’s fine,” he assured her as Mr and Mrs Parkinson caught up.

Pansy didn’t have time to answer as her mother spoke up. “You must be Draco Malfoy,” she greeted, extracting her hand towards him. “I’m Pansy’s mother, she’s told me a lot about you.” Draco took her hand as Pansy let out a “Mum!!” before sulking, a pink tint coating her cheeks. Mrs Parkinson had the same brown hair as Pansy, though her hair reached her waist. She had dark, forest green eyes, which reminded him slightly of someone else. She was wearing an identical cloak and robes, only with the Parkinson crest embroidered on it. It was a light blue crest with a dark brown _P_ in the centre.

“This is my husband,” Mrs Parkinson continued, gesturing at Mr Parkinson, who gave him a warm smile. Mr Parkinson had a slightly darker shade of hair, and it reached a bit past his shoulders. Draco knew it was an old wizarding tradition for married men to grow their hair, like his father had done. His clothes were identical to his wife’s, only with a large dark brown scarf covering most of his face, the same brown eyes as Pansy gazed at him from above it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr Malfoy,” he greeted. Draco returned his smile.

“Likewise, Mr Parkinson.”

Mrs Parkinson beamed happily, and Draco now knew whom Pansy had gotten it from. “We got your letter this afternoon, and we’re delighted. Thank you for your invitation.”

“It’s nothing special,” he responded politely, giving her another smile. He had completely forgotten that he’d invited Mr and Mrs Parkinson for dinner on Boxing Day.

“Can I go with him, Mum?” Pansy asked, looking up at her mother with begging eyes. Obviously, only those who knew her well would notice that. Her mother grinned.

“Of course, dear,” she agreed, still smiling. Draco thought she might smile a bit too much. “Go on, then,” she urged happily. Pansy smiled at her mother and they took off.

“Is your mother always so smiley?” Draco asked her once they were out of earshot. Pansy gave him an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, she is. You’ll get used to it eventually, though.” Draco took a side street, hoping it would bring them to more interesting shops. “What are you here for, Draco?” Pansy asked.

“Christmas presents,” he answered bluntly, while looking through the window of a small store. His eyes widened as he found exactly what he was looking for.

He entered the shop without a second glance at Pansy, who didn’t like that and called after him, entering the shop after him.

A minute later, Draco left the shop satisfied, the present in his bag. Pansy walked by his side, not looking thrilled.

“What was that about?” she demanded as they set off through the streets, unconsciously making their way towards the Leaky Cauldron.

“What are you talking about, Pansy?” Draco asked innocently, blinking at her a few times.

Pansy huffed and looked up at Draco, an incredulous expression on her face. “Don’t tell me that is meant for Potter...”

Draco averted his eyes to the snow-packed cobblestone path, feeling his cheeks become strangely warm for such a cold winter day.

Pansy gaped at him with open mouth and wide eyes. “It is...” she said, sounding dumbfounded. Then, a small smile played on her lips. “You really like him, huh?” she teased, gloating at his darkening blush.

Draco pouted, knowing it’d be unwise to deny it. “I just feel sorry for him, living with those Muggles,” he tried persuading her. Pansy only seemed half-satisfied.

They walked the rest of the way chitchatting and drank something at the Leaky Cauldron. Afterwards, they went to Nocturn Alley, where Draco bought his father a book about the Dark Arts he was sure he didn’t already have before fleeing back to Diagon Alley.

They spent the rest of the day walking through the streets, only parting when it was already dark and the streets were lit up by early Christmas decorations.

It was time... Draco took a deep breath and reached from underneath his bed, where he had hid the bag with presents. He opened it and carefully rummaged through it until he found what he was looking for.

A small, lion-shaped key chain, charmed to roar.

He held it up to his eye and smiled. After pushing the bag back underneath his bed, he stood up and walked towards his desk. There, he laid the chain in a small box and wrapped it, the smile never really leaving his lips, only biting his bottom lip softly in concentration.

After he had finished, he took a few steps back and looked at it. He grinned widely for a second before calling, “Marble!” A mere moment later, a white owl came flying in through the purposefully opened window. Marble, an albino eagle owl, was his owl. His father had bought her for him when he had turned eleven.

He stepped towards her, petting her head once, before walking towards his desk and grabbing the present. He returned to the owl and bound it to her neck, adding a small note which read:

> _ Dear Harry,  _ (He hesitated close to an hour before deciding on using his first name.)
> 
> _ I know we don’t really know each other, but I felt obligated to get you something. _
> 
> _ Merry Christmas! _
> 
> _ \- I’m sorry but you can’t know who I am. _

“Bring this to Harry Potter tomorrow morning, all right? Don’t make anyone else see or read it. You can hurt them if they try,” Draco said to her, in a hushed voice, a mischievous smirk visible on his lips. The owl rustled her feathers before taking off into the cold winter air.

Draco walked to his bed and lay down, sighing. Oh, what would his father think of this... He decided to not pay anymore attention to that, and started wrapping the other presents. He had to use the family’s eagle owl to deliver Pansy’s present, since his own was on a mission.

Draco awoke the next morning by Miriana, his House-elf. At first, he wasn’t happy with being woken up at 7 in the morning, until he remembered the date: the twenty-fifth of December, Christmas. He quickly got dressed in his robes, black and green, Malfoy crest embroidered for the ‘special’ occasion, and hurried downstairs.

There, his mother and father were waiting for him in the living room. Narcissa wearing her light green and silver robes, with crest, Lucius wearing robes alike to Draco’s. He greeted each of them and sat down on the couch, next to his mother.

“Let’s get this over with,” his father sighed. He was never too happy during festivities like these. Draco was just as excited to finish it, but because of a whole different reason.

The day before, he had sent Potter a present, so he wanted to check the book to see if he got it.

That’s why, after the presents, he hurried back up to his room, taking the book from under his bed, where he had hid the presents. He sat down on his bed and opened it. He hadn’t checked it yesterday, but wasn’t surprised to see a new part added.

What surprised him was that the sentences were becoming bold for a few seconds before turning back to normal. Draco raised an eyebrow. _Is it possible that that’s an indicator of what’s happening at this exact moment?_ he wondered to himself.

“An Invisibility Cloak?” Draco muttered under his breath. He was following the bold sentences, paying attention to even the slightest details.

_ ‘Had it really once belonged to his father?’ _

That was the last line he could read before the pages turned a disturbing white. Suddenly, his whole body seemed to tear apart. He went through the book, biting through the pain, which felt like it was positively killing him, and came to a stop at the last page, one he did not remember being attached to the book. But that may be because of the pain, that seemed to be numbing his body to the point he could read what was being ‘written’. This alone seemed already weird. The page was, in contrary to the others, a deep black. He did not, however, have the energy to react to any of the sentences, written in pure white ink.

_ “Nothing,” Harry said. He felt very strange. Who had sent the Cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father? _

_ A sound from the window pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked over and saw an albino eagle owl sitting on the windowsill, waiting to be given entrance. Harry walked over to the window and opened it to let the owl inside. It landed on his bedside table, waiting for him. He ignored Ron’s just as questioning look to examine their visitor. _

_ Harry had never seen anything like it. The pearly white feathers, blood-shot red eyes, and perfectly kept appearance. It seemed obvious the owl belonged to a wealthy family. But what was an owl of a well-off family doing here, at Hogwarts, in **his** dormitory, waiting for **him** to take the package bound around its neck with a thin, green ribbon. _

_ Harry stalked over to the owl and it bowed its head, allowing Harry to take the package. While unbinding the ribbon, he noticed a small crest-looking, silvery metal trinket dangling from an incredibly thin black collar around the owl’s neck. He disbanded the package, which seemed very like a present and took the metal crest in his hand. It read:  ** Marble, Female ** . Harry supposed that was her name and smiled. _

_ The back of the trinket had a small family crest, showing whom she belonged to. The crest was silver and green with a black ‘M’ and several serpents lining it. He knew not a single rich family that started with the letter ‘M’ that felt it needed to send him a Christmas gift, so he wordlessly and thoughtlessly dismissed it. _

_ He turned back towards the present and unbound it now for real, while feeling Ron’s eyes on him from where he was still sitting in the middle of the Dormitory. _

_ The package was small and wrapped in thin, silver wrapping paper, a light green ribbon wound around it, holding a note. He took the note and unfolded it carefully, wishing that Ron would learn to mind his own business. The owl seemed to think the same, as she gave a loud hoot, followed by the spreading of her wings as he dared to come closer. _

_ Harry refocused on the unfolded note in his hand. _

> **_ Dear Harry,  _ ** _ (it read in an immaculate, cursive hand-writing) _
> 
> **_ I know we don’t really know each other, but I felt obligated to get you something. _ **
> 
> **_ Merry Christmas! _ **
> 
> **_ \- I’m sorry but you can’t know who I am. _ **

_ Harry raised his eyebrows. **Someone he didn’t really know?** He dismissed the suspiciousness and unwrapped the present. Beneath the wrapping paper was a light green velvet box with the same family crest on the top made from some expensive material. He opened the lid and was surprised to notice a small lion-shaped key chain laying on a silver velvet cushion. The lion had a big mane and was sitting down. _

_ Harry and Ron jumped at the same time as the lion suddenly let out a big roar. Ron was the first to recover. _

_ “I know what that is!” he exclaimed from where he was pressed against the opposite wall, eyes occasionally shifting warily to Marble. “It’s a key chain that’s charmed to make an animal noise! Handy, little thing, can warn you when unfamiliar hands touch it. Helps against thieves.” He grinned widely and Harry wondered if everything in the Wizarding World had to have a will of its own, and a use, convenient or not. “Who sent it?” _

_ Harry heaved his shoulders as Marble swooped out of the window. Several thoughts were crowding his head as he and Ron both walked to their previous location in the centre of the room. Harry pocketed the key chain, and Ron busied himself with the Cloak. Who sent it to him? That was the second present without an actual name or sign of the sender. _

_ Before he could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flown open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry stuffed the Cloak quickly out of sight. He didn’t feel like sharing it with anyone else yet. _

This was weird, Draco decided, and even though he’d never admit it out loud, kind of scary. Then, he felt a sharp pain on his chest, like a quill carving something in his skin. Looking down at the book, another sentence was being written on a strangely white piece on the black page. He waited until the pain, and so the sentence, finished and whined slightly at the memory of the pain still present in his body, trying desperately to keep the tears from his eyes, while reading the line, written in blood-red ink.

_ For those who mess with direct Fate, rests only a pain so deep it tears. _

_Did I do that?_ It seemed the most logical response. The book had originally not included Draco’s present, but he did sent it and by that ‘messed with direct Fate’, as the book had so eloquently put it. Now, this was positively scaring the hell out of Draco. He kept a cool head, though, remembering the carvings being ‘written’ on his chest and jumped off his bed. He disposed of his robe and button-up shirt while making his way towards the full-body mirror in a corner of his room.

Looking at the reflection of his chest, he gasped in shock. There, carved into his chest, was the sentence that was written in blood, not blood-red, actual _blood_. _His_ blood. It made him think of those special quills and he shuddered. Looking down at his chest, the red liquid still glinting in the soft light of the chandelier, he remembered the pain his body was positive he never wanted to feel anything like that again. He could not risk playing with fate ever again in his life.

With a relieved sigh, he remembered that Pansy was coming over the next day. He could tell her about it and get it off his chest. Literally, he hoped, because scars like those aren’t pretty.

“It _what_?!” Pansy exclaimed loudly, startling Draco, having listened to his story with little to no actual reaction.

“It scarred me,” Draco repeated, pointing to his chest. “The words have left little wounds, but I’m sure they’ll heal,” he reassured her upon seeing her worried look mid-sentence.

“Show me,” she demanded in a bossy but worried voice. Draco hesitantly unbuttoned his shirt, not because Pansy was a girl, he was fine with that and it wasn’t like they’d never changed in front of each other before. No, it was more because he was scared how she’d react when she saw the wound. He hadn’t told her exactly what it said yet.

Pansy’s eyes widened. “ _‘For those who mess with direct Fate, rests only a pain so deep in tears’_ ,” she read out loud, giving Draco a worried glance. He brushed it off with a small smile.

“It’s nothing, really,” he tried again to reassure her. “The pain’s gone and I’ll make sure it won’t happen again.” A small ‘pop’ interrupted Pansy’s hesitant smile as Miriana Apparated inside the room.

“Miriana has come to get Master Draco, and Miss Pansy for dinner,” she said in a soft voice. Draco smiled at her.

“All right, we’re coming. And it’s Draco, Mir,” he teased as they got off the bed, Draco buttoning up his shirt and both taking their robes and putting them on. Miriana had already Disapparated when they left Draco’s bedroom.

(Text Copyright © 2020 MChanV)


	12. The First Curse

“What did your parents say again?” Draco let out an exaggerated sigh and looked up from his notebook in which he had been working for the book.

“Pansy, for the millionth time, Nicholas Flamel is a well-known alchemist for having the only real Philosopher’s Stone in his possession,” he explained to her for what felt like too often. “Have you gone deaf or something?”

Pansy shook her head. “I’ve just been thinking...” Draco sighed and rolled his eyes, returning to his work.

_Harry Potter received an Invisi—_

Pansy fell from the bed.

Draco started in surprise. He jumped off his chair and walked over to the girl on the ground. “Merlin, Pansy, what’s gotten into you?” he asked as he pulled her to her feet.

Pansy was grinning widely. “I finally understand it!” she beamed excitedly at him.

“Understand what?”

Pansy sat down on Draco’s bed and gestured for him to do the same. As he took his seat, she started her explanation.

“The Philosopher’s Stone can turn any metal into pure gold, but also produces the Elixir of Life. If that’s what they’re hiding at Hogwarts, and what needs such strong protection, there’s only one possible reason Quirrell would want to steal it for.”

Draco looked down in thoughts. She was right, but why could Quirrell, who was still a Hogwarts teacher, want the stone for anything else except to become rich? They had addressed that possibility before, but never settled for it, because it seemed too absurd. Except... No, that’s not possible. Or, is it...

“The Dark Lord, that’s who he’s working for,” Pansy whispered, leaning closer to Draco, who looked up at her, shocked, but not too shocked. He still didn’t fully understand it, though.

“But how can he work for him, though?” he asked her thoughtfully. She shrugged.

“One can only guess what goes on in the mind of the Dark Lord.”

After his talk with Pansy, he had abandoned his work to dig deeper in on the possibilities. They were almost sure Quirrell wanted to steal the stone for the Dark Lord, but all their ideas of how they communicated and planned seemed impossible.

Now, at midnight, Draco couldn’t sleep as his mind clouded with questions. None answered. There was also the thing about his father acting suspicious that had caught his attention. He turned on his side, staring into the darkness of his room. He sighed and turned around again, but found nothing interesting to focus on in the alike darkness.

He sighed once more before giving up and sat up, taking his wand and lighting the candle on his bedside table. He took the book from there and continued reading the twelfth chapter, _The Mirror of Erised_.

He read, entranced, as Potter saw his family in that mirror. He was smiling slightly, happy for the boy who finally found out at least what his parents looked like, even though he knew reviving someone was impossible.

At the part about Weasley, though, he couldn’t care less and even got slightly irritated at his behaviour towards Potter.

He became more attentive as Dumbledore explained about the mirror, silently wondering what his reflection would show him. He almost decided to go and find the mirror himself after break ended, but dismissed it as Dumbledore told Potter that the mirror would be replaced the next day, which had already passed for him.

With a slight sense of disappointment, he put away the book, extinguished the candle, and lay down in his bed. He soon fell asleep, but it was a restless sleep, scary and disrupting scenes clouding his dreams.

Draco didn’t know why but he awoke even more tired than before he went to sleep, of which he was sure was far past midnight. Pansy woke him up that morning, reminding him they should continue working on the book and its mystery. They only had five days left, six until the start of term, to work on it and had decided to use their time well.

Right after breakfast, they made their way upstairs towards Draco’s bedroom. It was a big, rectangular room with a big king-sized bed in the middle of it, black hangings and light green covers. The walls were lined with mostly bookshelves, making their own small library. A big crystal chandelier, sending of a soft light hung from the ceiling. The walls and ceiling were painted a light shade of silver, while the door and floor comprised a dark-coloured wood.

They sat down on the bed, and Draco started talking.

“I finished the chapter last night—“

“This morning,” Pansy corrected. Draco narrowed his eyes as a sign to not interrupt him.

“—and I found out about this Mirror of Erised. It’s a mirror that shows the deepest desires of our hearts. Potter saw his family in it. Dumbledore said that it was being moved the next day and that, if he found it again, he will be prepared for it.”

“So that means it has something to do with the stone...” Pansy considered thoughtfully. It did make sense, in Draco’s opinion, though he did not quite understand how.

They weren’t done listing their possibilities, and the day had already ended. They continued doing this until the day they had to return to Hogwarts. On the platform, they saw Granger, and though they both gave her a dirty look, she merely nodded at them, looking at Draco apprehensively.

Draco and Pansy took a seat in an empty compartment, prepared to start the long ride towards Hogwarts, as the door was slid open. In the opening stood Granger, hands on her waist but not looking too sure of herself. She eyed Pansy warily before turning her attention on Draco.

“I need to have a word with you,” she stated calmly, gesturing to the compartment next doors. Draco sighed and nodded, giving Pansy a smile and following Granger out, the book tucked beneath his arm to keep it safe.

They entered the empty compartment, and Granger took a seat, gesturing to Draco to do the same. He sat down opposite her.

“What’s your deal with Harry?” she asked out of nowhere, catching Draco slightly off guard.

“What are you talking about, Granger?” he returned, raising an eyebrow. She sighed.

“I know there’s something going on, Malfoy, just tell me. What’s your deal with Harry?” she repeated, troubling to keep her voice calm.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he responded briskly, and he really didn’t. What deal would he have with Potter?

“Then how do you know he lives with Muggles?” she questioned, now catching Draco fully off guard and making him unable to mask his surprised expression which he knew was visible on his face.

He sighed. He shouldn’t tell her but — “It’s a secret,” he went with, staring at the girl in front of him uncertainly.

She smiled slightly. “That must be, and I’ll keep it that way, but I would appreciate if you at least told me.” Her voice was almost pleading and Draco faltered, taking the book from beneath his arm and showing it to her, knowing she would see only white. She raised an eyebrow and looked up at him, silently demanding an explanation.

“This is how I know about it,” he explained, his voice soft as he remembered the night Dumbledore gave it to him. “I received it from the Headmaster on my first day here. No one else beside me can read it. You made me find out about that, though.

“It’s about Potter, following his life. Pansy and I have been following it, even studying it, as Dumbledore had asked me. It’s prepared me for what I had to say twenty-four hours in advance. Neither Pansy nor I know what exactly it is, though, and we’re just blindly following it.”

After he finished his explanation, she took the book from his outstretched hands and examined it. “Strange,” she whispered thoughtfully. “I’ve never heard of such a thing before.” She handed him the book back.

“Neither have I.”

Granger stood up, and so did Draco. Granger held out her hand.

“I understand it if you don’t want to be friends, but let us at least not be enemies when we’re alone,” she said, smiling, “Draco.”

“When we’re alone,” he agreed, glad to befriend the girl, and shook her hand, “Hermione.”

They left the compartment and parted ways, Gran—Hermione down the train and Draco back to Pansy, where he explained about what happened between him and Hermione. He had completely forgotten to tell her Pansy could also know.

After their talk on the train, Draco hadn’t talked with Hermione anymore, only when she was with her friends did he feel the need for it. He mostly kept to himself, or tried to make fun of others as much as possible, mostly of Potter.

His last meeting with Dumbledore had been quite... strange? Dumbledore hadn’t said a thing about Draco’s strange behaviour on how the holidays went. For him, it was obvious he was hiding something, but to the old man it seemed the most natural thing that someone is a stuttering mess and almost unable to form coherent sentences while telling someone else how their holidays had gone.

Draco was brought out of his thought by a figure making its way out of the library.

“Ah, Longbottom,” Draco sneered, having waited outside for the Gryffindor. Said boy turned around and looked up at Draco, fear flickering in his eyes. “Just the one I was looking for.”

He shifted on his feet, and Draco’s smirk grew bigger. “Not so brave for a Gryffindor, now, are you?” Draco laughed before raising his wand at the trembling boy. “I was looking for someone to test this on,” he drawled.

“No, please, don’t!” Longbottom exclaimed, walking backwards.

Draco’s eyes narrowed at his target. “Too late. _Locomotor Mortis_!”

Longbottom’s legs sprang together, and he fell backwards on the stone floor.

Draco turned around, feeling slightly sick of what he had just done, and walked away, leaving the poor target alone, on the ground.

The start of term had been calm with not much happening aside his little... talk with Longbottom, but Draco had found a very good reason to be where he was now; standing in front of the door to his godfather’s office, waiting to be given entrance.

The door opened, and Snape appeared in its opening. “Draco?” he started, sounding quite surprised.

“I need to talk to you,” Draco answered, looking up at his godfather.

“Of course,” he responded, holding open the door for Draco to enter. Snape took a seat behind his desk as Draco sat down on the chair in front of it.

“So,” Severus started, looking at Draco apprehensively while leaning towards him, elbows resting on the wooden desk, “what is the reason for this sudden visit, Draco?”

Draco shifted. “Is it true you are refereeing the next match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff?” he asked in one breath, returning Severus’ look. He nodded. “Why?”

Snape responded with a slight smirk. “First, who do you have that information from?” he returned. Draco groaned inwardly.

“The book,” he said in an undertone, wary for eavesdroppers though knowing his godfather’s office was a secure location.

Snape nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve figured out quite a deal already, haven’t you?” Draco raised an eyebrow, wondering which deal he was talking about. “About the stone and... _Professor_ Quirrell,” he explained, looking pained at just saying his name. Draco nodded.

“I’m refereeing to make sure he doesn’t try anything,” he stated bluntly, eyes shifting to the side in a manner of shame. Draco nodded again.

“So that’s why... You’re only making him nervous, you know. His friends tried persuading him to not play,” he said calmly, holding his godfather’s gaze, who sighed.

“I am aware, Draco, very. But it is the only thing I can do. No one would believe it if I said Quirrell was trying to steal the stone _and_ eliminate Potter,” he said, sounding defeated.

“They suspect you, though. Of trying to steal the stone, I mean,” Draco said.

“I’m aware, but it’s a good thing they think so, it gives me free roam.” Draco nodded thoughtfully. He gave Severus a small smile before standing up, nodding his goodbye, and leaving, heading towards the Slytherin Dormitories to inform Pansy.

He was on his way to his Dormitories as voices from a nearby hallway pulled his attention. He followed the muffled voices, having a hushed conversation. As he neared, the voices became clearer.

“We still have to be quiet, though...” one of them was saying. In Draco’s eyes, he sounded a lot like Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. But what would Wood be doing down in the dungeons?

“No one ever comes here, Oliver,” another voice said. Marcus Flint, fifth year and captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

“Still...” Wood tried to argue.

“Don’t worry about the Slytherins, I’m sure they would be fine with it,” Flint reassured him. Draco was hiding behind the corner, listening to the voices with his topmost attention.

“All right...” Wood gave in, and Draco’s curiosity got the best of him. He looked around the corner and had to stifle a gasp of surprise.

There, just around the corner, were the captains of Gryffindor and Slytherin, rivals through even war. Wood pushed up against the wall, Flint pushing him against it. Their lips connected, and they didn’t look fond of stopping.

Despite himself, Draco smiled. Flint was a Slytherin, and though this would seem like a crime to other houses, Slytherin house loyalty sometimes rivalled Hufflepuff’s. He turned around and walked away, leaving the two fifth years be.

In the common room, he couldn’t resist calling the attention of every Slytherin as he walked in. Most of them looked at him strangely, some apprehensively. “I have some interesting news,” he started, his voice loud enough to reach the back of the room. “One of our dear Slytherins has got himself a Gryffindor boyfriend!”

Many whispers broke out in the room, but none were filled with disgust, just curiosity. A fourth year spoke up. “Who?” she asked eagerly. Draco gave her a quick glance before turning back towards the group at large.

“Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood,” he said, stalking towards Pansy before to his dorm, accompanied by her, leaving the room in its whispered chaos.

“Flint and Wood? I would have never guessed!” Pansy exclaimed throwing herself on Draco’s bed.

“Likewise, until I found them snogging in a deserted corridor,” he said, grinning slightly.

“It’s nice though,” she said, smiling, before turning serious. “Now, how was your talk with Snape?”

Late that night when he couldn’t sleep, Draco decided to read the newest part of the book. He had only read up until the part where he had to curse Longbottom and suddenly hadn’t wanted to continue anymore. He pulled his hangings closed and took the book from his nightstand, using Lumos to light the pages.

Draco smiled. Potter finally found it, and it was just like Hermione to have a useful book at the ready. Reading the information about Flamel in the book, Draco marked it so he could keep it for later use.

He shook his head slowly as he read about the trio still suspecting Severus. Why couldn’t they see it was Quirrell, and not Snape, who wanted to steal the bloody stone?

It made him proud to see that the Gryffindor was not backing down from his Quidditch challenge, and, seeing as the sentences had ended, he put away the book, extinguished the light with a whispered “ _Nox_ ,”, and fell into a relaxed sleep.

(Text Copyright © 2020 MChanV)


	13. The Adventure Continues

Draco was walking through the corridor, on his way back from Charms, preparing himself for a calm weekend, before someone violently grasped his arm, pulling him out of his thoughts and into a dark alcove. He was about to call for help, his left hand already moving towards his pocket for his wand, as a soft, female voice spoke in his ear.

“Don’t worry, it’s me,” it said.

Hermione.

Draco relaxed slightly, turning around to face the Gryffindor girl.

“Yes?” he wondered.

“Have you heard the news?” she returned, rolling her wand nervously between her index and thumb.

“What news? There are a lot of rumours,” Draco said, eying the wand warily.

Hermione rolled her eyes and lowered her voice. “About Snape refereeing the match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff,” she whispered.

“Yeah, I have,” he answered, one eyebrow raised. “Your point, Granger?”

The girl, if possible, became even more nervous. “I’m worried about Harry, Malfoy... Snape hates him and I don’t want him to get hurt,” she whispered, her voice begging. Draco still had one eyebrow raised as he eyed the girl apprehensively.

She took a deep breath. “I know you used the Leg-Locker Curse on Neville—” Draco’s breath hitched. “—and I know I could learn it myself, but I was wondering if you could teach me instead...” Draco’s eyes widened in surprise. He knew him and the girl weren’t necessarily enemies anymore, but he had never expected she’d come to him for something like that.

“I just want to make sure Harry’s okay,” she went on, looking unsurely at the ground. “It’s fine if you don’t—“

“I’ll do it,” Draco interrupted her. This was his time to be the good guy for once. The Gryffindor looked overjoyed, grinning widely up at Draco.

“Thank you, Draco,” she whispered gratefully. Draco returned her smile.

It was the day of the match, Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, and Draco was already mentally preparing himself. The few weeks leading up to the match were absolutely nerve-wracking. Potter was getting more nervous, Severus was getting more apprehensive of Quirrell and took to following Potter around, him and Hermione were practicing nonstop on perfecting their Leg-Locker Curse, and then the book’s last entry came as the last straw.

Draco’s nerves were killing him.

He took a deep breath before following Hermione and Weasley up the stands. He waited patiently before the line fell from the redhead’s mouth.

“I’ve never seen Snape look so mean,” he was saying. Draco walked up right behind him. “Look — they’re off.” And Draco made sure to ‘poke’ the back of Weasley’s head with his elbow. “Ouch!”

“Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn’t see you there,” he drawled, as Weasley turned around in his seat. Draco grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle next to him. “Wonder how long Potter’s going to stay on his broom this time?” he wondered out loud, turning to look at a few half-interested Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. “Anyone want a bet?” he continued, turning back to Weasley. “What about you, Weasley?”

Weasley ignored him, looking at the pitch. Draco silently followed his gaze, mentally shaking his head at his godfather’s childish behaviour, and looking up to see Potter circling high above the pitch. He waited a few minutes and took a seat right behind Weasley.

“You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?” Draco said when he thought he had waited long enough, catching two of the people’s attention in front of him, determined to make it three. “It’s people they feel sorry for,” he continued in a drawl. “See, there’s Potter, who’s got no parents,—” That one hurt him emotionally. “—then there’s the Weasleys, who’ve got no money—” He did not feel sorry for that one at all, while turning to focus his attention more on his next target. "—you should be on the team, Longbottom, you’ve got no brains.”

Finally, the third, he thought triumphantly, as Longbottom, face bright red, turned around so his gaze met Draco’s. “I’m worth twelve of you, Malfoy,” came the stammered comeback — if you could call it that.

Draco laughed loudly, followed by Crabbe and Goyle, aware of Pansy eying them as Weasley said something to Longbottom.

Draco turned on the Gryffindor. “Longbottom, if brains were gold you’d be poorer than Weasley, and that’s saying something.”

Weasley visibly tensed up as he tried to keep his eyes on Potter. “I’m warning you, Malfoy — one more word—“

“Ron!” Hermione interrupted him, pointing to the pitch. “Harry—!”

“What? Where?” Draco followed Hermione’s finger and saw Potter diving towards the ground.

“You’re in luck, Weasley, Potter’s obviously spotted some money on the ground!” Draco’s stomach clenched as he knew what was coming.

Before he could prepare himself, Weasley had jumped up from his seat and at him, wrestling him to the ground. They were rolling on the ground and Draco aimed a fist at Weasley’s nose, making blood trickle out of it.

He tried avoiding the redhead’s next hit, but failed and it hit him full on in his eye. Suddenly, the game had ended, and Draco couldn’t remember much more of the moment aside his trip to the hospital wing and the burnout from Madam Pomfrey, and that from Pansy later in the day.

Late that night, him and Pansy met up in the common room. It was around one o’clock, so the room was empty. They had planned a meeting with Hermione, insisted by the girl, to get to know her better. Honestly, Draco was slightly hesitant. She was a Muggle-born, and his family was well known for loathing everything to do with them. But him and Hermione went together quite well; their equal like for books and studying had thoroughly strengthened their friendship during the time Draco was teaching her the Leg-Locker Curse.

They had decided to meet up in front of the library, again on request of the Gryffindor. And, in hindsight, it might not have been the Slytherins’ best idea to meet up in the girl’s territory, but Draco felt like he could consider her some kind of friend, so wasn’t too suspicious.

As they arrived at the library, no one was there yet, so they waited just inside to not be caught. There, however, as they were searching a hiding spot, they were met with a surprise. They noticed a shadow sitting at a table in a secluded area of the library. The moonlight shining through the window behind it, lighted brown, bushy hair. Hermione.

Draco exhaled a deep breath, despite Pansy’s alarmed look, and soundlessly approached the Gryffindor girl. Pansy, after a second’s hesitation, followed him. “Granger,” he whispered as they took a seat opposite her.

The girl put down the book she was reading and looked up, giving Draco a friendly smile. “Good morning, Malfoy,” she greeted, looking over to Pansy before adding, “Parkinson.” and giving her a nod.

“Bit too early to call it morning, don’t you think, Granger?” Pansy said, and Draco hoped Hermione hadn’t missed the jokiness in her statement.

“When it’s past midnight, I consider it morning,” she responded, shrugging, and Draco let out the breath he didn’t know was holding. He wasn’t looking forward to fighting. He turned towards the girl.

“What did you ask us here for, Granger?” he asked her, keeping a firm grip on his backpack, in which his ‘book stuff’ was hidden, as he called it.

The girl looked down nervously. “After you showed me the book, Malfoy, I haven’t been able to keep my mind off of it. It’s strange no one else besides you can read it, don’t you think?”

Draco sighed tiredly. “I know it is, Hermione, and I’ve thought about it as well. I haven’t found a thing about it, though,” he told her. She nodded thoughtfully.

“Are there any things that can help us find out what it is, at least?” she wondered, leaning forward on the table, chin on her hands, elbows resting on the wood.

“Don’t you have more important things to worry about than the book, Granger?” Draco teased, taking out the book. She eyed it confused as he started flipping page after page. “Isn’t there the thing about Snape wanting to steal the Philosopher’s stone? And him threatening Quirrell? And aren’t you planning on drawing revision timetables and colour-coding all your notes?”

She looked at him in surprise, just as Pansy gave him a curious glance. “How—“

“The book, remember? It shows twenty-four hours in the future,” he explained briefly. Hermione crossed her arms and pouted childishly.

“And how was I supposed to know?”

“You weren’t, that’s the point,” Draco shot back, grinning playfully. Pansy let out a choke of laughter.

“Oh, you!” Hermione exclaimed, laughing, hitting him playfully on his arm. Draco’s grin widened slightly before joining in on the laughter of the two girls. Hermione was the first to sober up. “You know more than us, don’t you, Malfoy,” she stated, still slightly breathless, and resulted in spectacularly making both him and Pansy stop their fits of laughter.

They shared an uncomfortable look before Draco nodded. “We do...” he agreed. Hermione leaned forwards eagerly. Draco sighed. “How well can you act? ‘Cause you’re gonna have to act like you know nothing about anything we’re gonna tell you.”

“If I have to, quite well if I say so myself,” she answered, grinning. “Now, spit out. What do we have to know about Snape?”

This time, it was Pansy who spoke up. “It... it isn’t Snape...” she said, earning a confused look from Hermione.

“Pansy’s right,” Draco said, making the brunette’s eyes snap to him instead. “Snape’s trying to make sure nothing happens to Potter.”

“No, he isn’t!” Hermione exclaimed, slightly too loud. She noticed Draco’s sharp look and lowered her voice. “There’s no way _Snape_ ’s trying to take care of Harry!”

“Believe it or not, and you better, he isn’t planning on doing anything more than keep him out of trouble,” Draco explained. “It’s Quirrell you have to watch out for.” That last sentence got Hermione’s attention.

“Quirrell? But, how?” she asked in pure confusion. All this for the witch with the highest marks of her whole year.

Draco sighed and, together with some of Pansy’s help, explained everything they’d found out about Snape and Quirrell. By the end, Hermione’s mouth was gaping open, though her eyes shined with understanding.

“That’s crazy!” she whispered.

“We know,” Pansy sighed. “But Snape isn’t doing a good job of coming out unsuspicious.”

Draco laughed a little and leaned back in his seat, arms folded behind his head. “That’s Severus for you.”

The three spent a lot of their time conspiring about everything Quirrell and Dark Lord related until it was around four o’clock and they feared getting caught. Together, they filled about ten or twelve scrolls of parchment with information, suspicions and possibly correct conclusions. They split at the entrance of the library, and Draco had the once-in-a-lifetime experience to watch a hug between Hermione and his best friend happen.

For that, Draco did not stop teasing her about until the book’s new entry had pulled his attention one afternoon. Oh, was he going to find out if that miracle was true!

And it was. Draco lay down on his bed, spent from his hiding and eavesdropping. The information about the Stone was useful, but that dragon sparked more interest with him. The door to his dormitory slowly creaked open, and a figure walked inside.

“And?” it asked, ensuring Draco of its identity. Pansy. She sat down on the bed and stared at Draco curiously.

Draco sighed. “Hagrid has a dragon,” he said, making Pansy jump off the bed in surprise.

“A dragon!?” she screeched, though luckily keeping her voice down. Draco gave her a confirming nod.

“A Norwegian Ridgeback.”

“Bonkers!” she whispered, aghast. Draco nodded enthusiastically in agreement. There seemed to be something wrong in the mind of the Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts.

And from then on, both Draco and Pansy knew the adventure continued, and they were thoroughly excited about it.

(Text Copyright © 2020 MChanV)


	14. Plans

Draco stopped at the perfectly right time and place to even hear Potter whisper, “Shut up!” Draco smirked victoriously. Today was the day the dragon would hatch, and the book had given him a chance to watch. He didn’t even have any dialogue to practice. Just standing at a window and running back to the castle.

There was only one thing that Draco was against in that whole scenario; he had to be seen, which went fully against all his morals. Either way, this was what the book wanted, so this was what he would do, and now he knew what would happen if he defied it. That’s why, right after Charms, he hurried out the castle, completely forgetting to inform Pansy about anything.

Reaching the hut, he walked to the window with a gap in the curtains and looked inside. There, on the table, laid a huge black egg, deep cracks covering its surface. Draco saw as the four occupants of the small room drew their chairs to the table and started staring intensely at the egg.

With a crack, the egg split into pieces and a baby dragon flopped out of it, falling onto the table. Draco thought Potter’s description of a crumpled black umbrella suited the black lump well. From his position at the window, he didn’t have as good a view as those inside, though he had a good view of the tail, black with small stubs, not long yet.

“Isn’t he _beautiful_?” he heard Hagrid say, his voice muffled, after the dragon sneezed and almost put the wooden table on fire.

Draco skipped the following conversation, of two sentences if he remembered correctly, to keep a good look on Hagrid’s face. Right as the colour drained from it, Draco pushed himself off of the window ledge and sped towards the castle, hoping to Merlin he wouldn’t get caught. Right at the entrance, he almost bumped into a very disgruntled Pansy.

“Draco, there you are!” she exclaimed, fixing him with a sharp look.

“No time to talk, Pans,” he said hastily, pulling her towards the Greenhouses for Herbology. “We have Herbology and I just saw a dragon!”

Draco heard Pansy’s sputter behind him before she threw him against the glass wall of one greenhouse. “You saw a _what_!?” she exclaimed, her voice an excited whisper. “How was it?”

Draco smiled cheerfully. “No time for that, I’ll tell you after school,” he whispered under his breath as Professor Sprout ushered them inside for their second period.

“So, our journey with the dragon continues, huh?” Pansy asked as she and Draco made their way to Hagrid’s hut on Wednesday afternoon, a week after Draco went to see the dragon in person.

“Yep,” Draco answered shortly, giving her a small smile before shushing her and hiding beneath a window with their backs pressed against the wall. They had been following the trio a lot lately, while Draco had to keep up the pretence the book wrote for him. They were almost a hundred percent sure Hermione knew of them going there, but she said nothing... yet.

Hiding in the shadow of the window ledge, they listened to the quiet conversations going on inside the walls, Pansy scribbling down bits of important information. As the trio finally left later the day, Draco and Pansy waited a few minutes before getting up and walking towards the greenhouses.

They had already made a habit of it. Every time they’d follow Potter, Weasley and Hermione to Hagrid’s, and they had to return to the castle, they’d go past the greenhouses to avoid suspicion of oblivious classmates. They were about to turn a corner when a small cough caught their attention. They turned around and looked at a disapproving looking Hermione.

“Granger,” Draco and Pansy greeted in unison, a little stiff.

“Draco, Pansy,” she greeted back, giving each of them a small nod. “Why have you been following us?”

Draco sighed exasperatedly; this was what he hoped wouldn’t happen, the girl’s just too sharp. “We know about Norbert — because of you-know-what — and figured we’d keep an eye on it... and you,” Pansy blurted out, looking at Hermione apologetically.

Hermione smirked. “Is that so?” she asked sarcastically, giving each of them a look. “All right.” She turned around and left.

Draco and Pansy gaped at her retreating, Pansy wide-mouthed, Draco more reserved. When they got back to themselves, Pansy muttered, “That was weird,” and Draco quietly agreed.

“Let’s get up to the castle,” he said, setting off. Pansy followed a second later.

“Yeah.”

“Where are they?” Pansy asked frustrated, as they entered the Astronomy tower for their lesson the next Wednesday. Draco shrugged.

“No idea, Pans,” he whispered as Professor Sinistra started the class.

Fifteen minutes later, Sinistra let them continue their work on their star charts, so Draco, knowing he wouldn’t need much time, took out the book instead. As he opened it, Pansy’s previous question was answered.

It seemed like the three were skipping.

Draco looked up as the door opened.

Or not.

“I’m so sorry, Professor Sinistra!” Hermione called, as Potter and Weasley stood by her sides.

Sinistra looked down on them disappointed and annoyed.

“Five points from Gryffindor for each of you, Ms Granger, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley,” she said. “And make sure it won’t happen again.”

The three gave her a confirming and polite nod and started working on their charts.

Draco only just caught sight of Weasley’s hand, wrapped in a very bloody handkerchief. He frowned and went back to the book, realisation seeping through as he read about what happened to it. The idiot.

That letter, though, was something to remember.

He read on with the next part and found out about a little thing he had to do the next day. He read through it attentively, noting some important things before putting the book aside and continuing with his chart.

Draco took a deep breath as he entered the hospital wing. Looking around, he quickly noticed Weasley sitting on one bed, glaring as he looked back.

“Yes, dear?” Madam Pomfrey asked, and Draco looked up at the woman nearing him. “Is there something you need?”

Draco smiled sweetly at her. “Actually, yes, there is. I wanted to borrow Weasley’s Charms book. Can I have a word with him about it?”

Madam Pomfrey returned the smile, though slightly hesitant. “All right. But not longer than fifteen minutes, Mr Weasley needs his rest.”

“I’m sure of that, Madam Pomfrey,” Draco responded with a polite smile.

As she returned to tend to another student, Draco confidently walked over to Weasley. As he was near enough, Weasley’s glare deepened as he bit, rather rudely, “What do you want, Malfoy?”

Draco gave a short laugh. “Haven’t told her what really bit you, huh?” he mocked, smirking nastily. He didn’t think he would ever stop hating the Weasleys, this Weasley specifically.

The same Weasley sharpened his glare. “Of course not!” he spat. “Now, what do you want?”

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. “Just wanted to borrow a book,” he answered, narrowing his eyes as a warning not to deny it to him. Weasley mimicked him.

“And why would I give it to you?”

Draco put his hands on his hips, leaning forward slightly and lowering his voice to a menacing whisper. “Otherwise _someone_ will be in trouble for being bitten by a _dragon_.” He stood back up, confidently crossing his arms. “And we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

Weasley let out a low sound scarily close to a growl. “You git,” he said between gritted teeth. Draco winked mockingly at him.

“Now, what do you say?” He held out his hand as Weasley’s frustrated frown turned into a glare. “See it as a payback for the Quidditch match.”

Weasley snorted, though getting the message and handing him, scowling and unwilling, his Charms book. Draco smirked slightly and mockingly thanked him before bidding Madam Pomfrey goodbye and rushing towards his dorm.

As Draco opened the door to his dorm, he found a girl sitting on his bed waiting for someone.

“Pansy,” Draco sighed, sitting down next to the girl. Pansy looked up instantly, eyes darting briefly towards the book.

“You’ve got it, great!” she exclaimed. “Check for the letter!”

Draco did just that.

Draco smiled as he found the parchment tucked halfway into the book. He took the parchment out, reading it aloud for Pansy.

“Dear Ron,

“How are you? Thanks for the letter — _I’d be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback_ , but it won’t be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn’t be seen carrying an illegal dragon.

“Could you get the Ridgeback up the _tallest tower at midnight on Saturday_? They can meet you there and take him away while it’s still dark.

“Send me an answer as soon as possible.

“Love,

“Charlie.”

“That’s it then, isn’t it,” Pansy said smiling. “I’m sure the book will have to include you so you’ll just have to follow it.”

Draco nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll check to see if I’ve already got anything to do against tomorrow evening.” Pansy gave Draco a short nod, and he took the book from the bedside table.

Opening it, he flipped to the last filled-in page, reading and laughing about how utterly lost they were with Draco having the letter.

“I think we’re gonna have to clear some things up with Granger,” Draco laughed at the end of the short part. Pansy looked thoughtful.

“All right,” she agreed, standing up. “I’ll send her a letter for tomorrow night, one o’clock in the library.” She walked over to the door as Draco gave her a confirming nod. “Anything else to do?” she asked, right before closing the door.

“Nope!” And the door closed as Draco lay down on his bed, preparing for an early night’s rest as it seemed he’d have to stay up until past midnight at least twice in a row.

“So, what’s this about?” Hermione whispered to Draco and Pansy in the library the next night. Draco fidgeted nervously with the rim of his shirt while Pansy sat sagged on the bench next to him, letting him do all the work as the amazing best friend she was.

“First, Weasley getting bit by Norbert was foolish,” he started. Hermione exhaled.

“I know... but what was that about in the hospital wing?” she tensed.

“That was the book’s doing, once again. Pure luck I got the book with the letter in, though,” Draco responded, taking the Charms book out of his back. “The letter’s in it,” he added as he handed her the book.

“Thanks,” she said. “Is there anything I have to watch out for tomorrow? While we’re bringing the dragon away,” she added.

Draco took his own book from his bag and opened it, laying it on the table and well aware of the four eyes on him while flipping to the last inked pages.

He started reading, occasionally saying things like: “You’re gonna be late ‘cause of Peeves,” and “You’re gonna come past Professor McGonagall punishing me,” by which he had to deter the two girls’ laughter. He also told her her line (“Malfoy’s got detention! I could sing!”) and at last, while meeting her eyes, “You’re gonna forget the Cloak on top of the tower and get caught by Filch.”

The Gryffindor girl looked awfully disappointed while Pansy high-fived Draco.

“Do we _have_ to get caught,” she moaned. Draco and Pansy sniggered.

“I hope so!” Pansy exclaimed loudly, earning a warning nudge from Draco.

“Keep your voice down or we’ll get kicked out, and then Hermione and I won’t be the only ones with detentions,” Draco said in a low, warning tone.

“Right,” she whispered back.

“We should get going, though,” Hermione brought their attention back to her. “Long night tomorrow for two of us so we should get a good night’s rest.” Draco and Pansy — mostly Draco — agreed wholeheartedly to this. As they left the library, Hermione whispered, while giving each of them a brief hug, “I don’t want to see either of you at breakfast,” before setting off down the corridor, up the stairs.

Draco and Pansy went the opposite way, down to the dungeons, to get, as Hermione had so eloquently put it, a good night’s rest.

(Text Copyright © 2020 MChanV)


	15. Detention

Draco woke up late that day, at around 11 o’clock, and hurried to get dressed. He might not have lessons that day, but waking up late wasn’t good for the Malfoy name, as his father had always told him. He put on basic black robes, took his wand and the bag with the book in, before going to the girls’ dormitories to wake Pansy.

After having done all the things his morning routine comprised, also taking a quick shower which he had initially forgotten, they made their way upstairs for lunch, feeling as though they were starving because they had missed breakfast.

“Stupid Hermione telling us to sleep in,” Draco muttered under his breath to Pansy while eating his lunch, aware of Hermione’s analysing eyes on them. Pansy gave him a short nod, obviously more set on eating, while the stress of that night’s escapade weighted down on Draco’s shoulders.

In the middle of the afternoon, Hermione halted them, pulling both of them into a shadowed alcove. At first, she said, she had just wanted to catch Draco, but she didn’t want Pansy to worry about his sudden disappearance.

“Are you ready for tonight?” she whispered to him.

Draco gave her a short nod. “Yeah. You?”

“I... don’t know,” she gave in. “Ron’s still in the hospital wing, so it’ll only be me and Harry. Plus, we must follow the book which is adding to the stress.”

Draco felt slightly sympathetic for the girl, knowing exactly what it felt like to follow the book. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve only messed up once,” he admitted. “Once you know what you have to do in the big lines, you just got to follow your instinct.”

In the darkness, he only just caught her brief, grateful smile, before she pushed them back into the hallway.

Walking through the corridors, Draco and Pansy started a whispered conversation.

“Are you sure you’ll manage on your own?” Pansy wondered worriedly.

Draco gave her a soft smile. “Of course, Pans, no need to worry. Just promise to stay in your dorm until I return, ‘kay?”

She played nervously with her hands for a second. “Is your dorm okay as well?”

“Sure.”

Draco checked the time again: twenty-five minutes before midnight. He had been walking through the corridor ‘beneath the tallest tower’, for a while already, waiting for any sign of McGonagall, since Potter and Hermione would be hidden beneath the Cloak.

Five minutes passed before he heard footsteps nearing him. A light shining around the corner signaled for him to walk towards the tower. Suddenly, he stood frozen to the floor, as the footsteps neared him from behind.

He tried calming his breathing, preparing himself for his lines while listening closely for a sign of the Gryffindors.

“ _What_ do you think you’re doing out this late, Mr Malfoy?” came McGonagall’s sharp voice from behind him as he felt a hand grip his ear. “Detention!” she chimed loudly, and Draco recognised the sentence. “And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how  _dare_ you —“

“You don’t understand, Professor,” Draco interrupted her, reciting his lines, “Harry Potter’s coming — he’s got a dragon!” This was by far the hardest task the book had given him yet. He tried his best for his voice to sound desperate.

As McGonagall started pulling him towards the closest staircase downstairs, she fought back loudly. “What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on — I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!”

Draco exhaled, relieved to have finished his task, once they had gone down one flight of stairs, alarming McGonagall and making her bring him to a halt. “Do you think this is funny, Malfoy? ‘Cause I can assure you — What are you laughing at!”

Draco had broken down into a fit of laughter before he could stop himself. “Mr Malfoy!” McGonagall warned dangerously, and Draco forced himself to calm down.

“My apologies, Professor,” he started, still slightly breathless, but was cut off by McGonagall.

“Why do you think this is funny?” she asked sternly.

“I don’t,” Draco admitted. “It’s just, the book led me here, and I thought you’d have to know that.”

McGonagall looked at him confused for a second, before gesturing him to walk with her down another flight of stairs. “Then I suppose you won’t be the only disciple I’ll be catching tonight?”

Draco nodded. “Longbottom knows of it, and he’ll be trying to warn Potter and Hermione about me,” he explained. “The two of them are bringing away Hagrid’s dragon, Norbert, for Charlie Weasley’s friends to take. But they will forget the Cloak on top of the tower and Filch will catch them, bringing them to you.”

After he had finished, McGonagall halted him again. “So that means there’s no need for me to bring you to Severus, if you could walk there yourself and explain the situation,” she said.

Draco gave her a short nod before they both went their separate ways, McGonagall down the corridor, Draco to the dungeons. He feared what Severus would say about all of this, since he had seemed not such a big fan of the book on earlier occasions.

Draco’s conversation with Severus went... all right. It hadn’t been as bad as he was expecting, though it could have been a little milder, Draco had to say. His godfather hadn’t been happy with Draco’s ‘stunts’, despite what he had said about the book. It was like he had something against it, though that may be because he just didn’t like Potter.

The way from his godfather’s rooms to the Slytherin dormitories luckily wasn’t that long, so Draco didn’t have much time to think things over. He turned the knob of the door to his dorm, yawning quietly as he entered the dark room. Using _Lumos_ for light, he walked over to his trunk, stopping in front of it as his eyes noticed a figure in his bed.

Deserting his earlier plan, he suspiciously approached his bed, eying the figure beneath the covers. A small smile played on his lips as he noticed Pansy’s sleeping face in the dim light of his wand. Sighing, he shook his head, before heading back to the foot of his bed for his pyjamas.

After changing, he dropped his wand on his bedside table, crawling in his bed only to remember the asleep Slytherin inside it. He sighed tiredly, rubbing his eyes, as he stood up and pulled the girl into his arms. He picked her up, and he carried her to the girls’ dormitory, careful not to wake any of the room’s occupants as he could only imagine what this must have looked like.

After putting the girl in her bed, the only empty one, he headed back to his own dorm, climbing into his own bed and quickly falling asleep.

The following weeks were uneventful. Draco had done little more than study for the upcoming exams, teasing and mocking Potter and his crew, getting good grades in classes, ... oh, and spreading the story of Harry Potter losing all those sweet Gryffindor rubies, of course. That had naturally been one of his favourite subjects to tease him about. Despite still not enjoying to play bully, some things made it more fun. This one thing, for example: Most of Slytherin, despite the few blaming him for their loss of fifty house points (the twenty from McGonagall, and thirty more from Snape, who had thought he deserved a real punishment), had been praising him as the  _ Slytherin Prince _ .

None of this _really _interested Draco, despite the occasional laughs he had with his newfound friends of higher years. What interested and excited him was the book’s new entry. He immediately sat down with Pansy to examine it, both of them rather not thinking about who would  **** have tortured their ‘dear’ Professor. Neither he nor Pansy felt the least bit sorry for him, as their parents had always taught them how much the Dark Lord loved torturing — and then they _were _talking about it!

Two days later, after breakfast when Draco had received his note stating the details of his detention, Pansy was walking back and forth in front of him as he sat on his bed in his deserted dorm. Draco wasn’t really paying attention to her as he was searching in a library book the best jinx to use on Longbottom that evening. Draco wanted to have some fun with it, despite the book saying he had to sneak up and grab him from behind. He might just be able to get out of trouble with a small lie.

This was one of the biggest tasks he had to do yet, with a lot of dialogue and actions to remember. He and Pansy would also act out some scenes in the dorm for practice.

Draco sighed tiredly, closing and putting away the book. He might just stick with the book’s original idea. He let out a tired “Pansy...” which caught the girl’s attention as she stopped pacing.

“Yes, Draco?” she asked, her voice slightly tense. She had been nervous for that night, mostly on Draco’s behalf.

“Can you stop the bloody pacing? It’s freaking me out,” he complained, rubbing at his eyes and yawning slightly.

“Sorry, Draco. I’m just nervous,” she apologised.

“I get it,” Draco responded, looking at her. “I am, too, but there’s no escaping it.”

Pansy gave him a small nod, encircling her own torso with her arms.

“Can you promise me to be careful, at least,” she begged, voice quiet and unsure, as she sat down on the bed.

Draco went to sit next to her, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a half hug. “Of course,” he whispered, smiling down at her softly.

“Thank you,” she returned in the same tone, snuggling closer to Draco’s chest as both of them sighed tiredly.

Late that evening, Draco gave Pansy one last hug before leaving the common room to go to the Entrance Hall for his detention. As he got there, Filch was already present, though Potter, Hermione and Longbottom weren’t yet.

It didn’t take long for the trio to arrive, as they turned the corner a mere five minutes later. Draco gave the trio a glare, as he was used to doing these days. As the three came up to them, Filch lighted his lamp, saying, “Follow me.”

He began leading the four of them outside, Potter next to Longbottom in front of Draco and Hermione. They gave each other a greeting nod, before Hermione focused on what Filch had to say. Draco just walked with them, finding their whole talk to be useless and unnecessary. He was thinking rather deeply about that night as he faintly heard Hagrid call out to them. Remembering one of his lines was close, he started focusing on the conversation.

“...with that oaf? Well, think again, boy — it’s into the forest you’re going and I’m much mistaken if you’ll all come out in one piece.”

As Longbottom in front of him stopped dead in his tracks, Draco stopped as well. “The forest,” he repeated, trying his best to not sound as ‘cool as usual’. Hermione gave him a disapproving glance as she slightly shook her head wearily. “We can’t go in there at night,” he continued, ignoring the girl’s look, “there’s all sorts of things in there — werewolves, I heard.”

Ignoring Longbottom’s stupid reactions, he only halfheartedly followed the following conversation. As Filch left them alone, Draco turned towards the oaf and said, not needing to fake the small note of panic hidden in his voice, “I’m not going in that forest.”

“Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts,” Hagrid shot back fiercely. “Yeh’ve done wrong an’ now yeh’ve got ter pay fer it.”

“But this is servant stuff,” Draco argued, “it’s not for students to do. I thought we’d be writing lines or something.” He didn’t, actually. “If my father knew I was doing this, he’d—”

Hagrid rudely interrupted him, finishing his sentence for him. “—tell yer that’s how it is at Hogwarts. Writin’ lines! What good’s...” Draco didn’t bother listening, just acting as the book had described. Draco felt like he was on a film set, though he only had one try to get it right or he’d have to go through an awful punishment.

“And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?” Draco wondered, using the fear of the memory of the previous punishment the book had given him, hoping he could play it off that way. Faking fear wasn’t all that easy. And, admittedly, he might have been a bit scared.

“I want Fang,” Draco started quickly at the end of another of Hagrid’s explanations. He eyed the dog’s teeth.

After they had made the groups, they set off into the forest. Draco thought it was awful, having the earth, mud and wildlife ruin his clothes, though he silently trudged on. At the fork, he went right with Longbottom, who was whimpering too much to even be called a Gryffindor, and Fang, who gave no contribution at all.

After walking for a long time without an actual conversation between him and the ‘Gryffindor’, Draco decided it was time, and sneaked up behind Longbottom. He breathed deeply in and out once, before grabbing the boy by his left arm, knowing he was right-handed. Longbottom gave out this delicious, fearful half-scream and lifted his wand, sending the red sparks up into the air.

He turned around slowly, his movements jerky, but let out a... relaxed? sigh as he saw who had jumped him. Draco gave him a malicious smirk. “That wasn’t very manly, now, was it, Longbottom?”

“Stop it, Malfoy!” he stuttered, trying to fight back to Draco. “You… you shouldn’t have done that!”

Draco snorted. “It was just for fun, but now the others will think we’re in trouble,” he scowled, looking pointedly at Longbottom.

“That wasn’t m-my fault!”

Draco let out another snort.

They had to wait awhile for Hagrid to arrive, and Draco used that time to recall the still-needed dialogue. Hagrid brought them back to the other two where Draco got paired up with bloody Potter, though he had known it.

They set off again, an even tenser silence filling the space between him and Potter. Draco was still quietly wondering whether he should warn Potter about what would happen, but had taken too long as an arm in front of him stopped him from continuing. Draco tentatively inched closer, taking a deep breath.

The sight, as the book had said, was really beautiful but sad. Such a pure being shouldn’t be found dead like this. How it lay there, as if in a slumber, though it was dead. Draco saw as Potter took one step forwards. Draco’s mouth dropped in true fear as he looked at the cloaked figure crawling out of a bush towards the unicorn.

Draco screamed, right as... Quirrell?... The Dark Lord?... whatever it was started drinking the unicorn’s blood. Draco ran away, Fang following him closely, until he might have run for five full minutes. He stopped dead in a clearing, only then noticing he had left the path. Panicking, but also knowing it was what he had to do to get Hagrid here, he sent up the green sparks, immediately followed by red ones.

As he waited for Hagrid, he looked around the forest, eyes and ears working extra hard to pick up any worrisome movements or noises. The only sound he heard after a few minutes was Hagrid coming towards him, Longbottom and Hermione tailing him.

Hagrid looked panicked, but also relieved as he saw Draco. “Where’s the—” he started, but stopped dead as he noticed neither Potter nor the unicorn were with Draco. He raised his voice, starting again angrily, “Where are they?!”

Draco inched back slightly. “Potter’s deeper in the forest,” he gave in, pointing, voice quiet at the memory of that... thing. “The unicorn’s with him, but...” he cut off, looking to his side.

“Yes?” Hagrid urged.

Draco swallowed hard. “The...  _thing _ that’s after the unicorn’s there, too,” he admitted, voice even lower and quieter.

Hagrid looked outraged. “You! How dare yeh leave them!” he started scolding, before seeming to remember Potter was in danger. He set off, hurrying towards the direction Draco had pointed in, after demanding them to stay where they were. Draco let out a content and relaxed sigh as he knew that was all the book had asked of him.

“What’s that about?” Hermione whispered to him, pointedly not paying any attention to Longbottom, who was staring at them with a quite freaked out look.

“Nothing, really,” Draco responded nonchalantly, lowering his voice to add, “Just the _thing_ ’s doing.” Hermione frowned slightly, before giving a short nod.

“And Harry?” she wondered nervously.

“He’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Draco assured her, smiling slightly as the worried glint in her eyes faded and she exhaled.

“Hermione!” Longbottom suddenly squeaked, causing both her and Draco to pull out their wands in alarm, before relaxing as they saw nothing worth noticing.

“Neville!” Hermione exclaimed. “Don’t do that!”

“Sorry, Hermione,” he apologised in a low tone. “Just... why are you talking to M-malfoy?” Draco smirked at the fear in his voice as the boy said his name, while Hermione elbowed him in his side, before turning back to Longbottom.

“Can you not tell anyone about this, please?” she begged, smiling hesitantly at him. “No one’s supposed to know we’re friends, you see,” she explained, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Friends?!” Longbottom squeaked, beginning to sound suspiciously much like a rat. “B-but... How?”

Hermione gave a long sigh, closing her eyes tiredly. “I don’t know, Neville, but keep it quiet, all right?”

“Uhmm... o-oka—,” he said, but noises coming from deeper in the forest stopped him. Hermione, probably just as Draco knowing that must be Hagrid and Potter, jumped to stand next to Longbottom, whispering something to him under her breath. Longbottom gave the girl a shaky nod, and Hermione smiled at Draco.

Draco nodded, and as the disturbances grew nearer, reverted to his earlier state of interest towards the two Gryffindors; uninterested and bored by their existence.

A few seconds later, Hagrid came trudging out of the wildlife, Potter at his heals. Hagrid scolded Draco for a while, before Longbottom got too scared to stay in the forest and shakily asked that, since Potter — he didn’t even mention Draco — had found the unicorn, their detention was completed so they shouldn’t have to stay in there.

Hagrid, after a few more warning words to Draco, agreed with the boy and led all four of them back to the castle. At the oaf’s hut, Hagrid left them, and since Filch wasn’t there yet, he sent them alone up to the castle. Draco didn’t wait to get down towards the dungeons, he only stopped as Hermione trailed up close behind him, shoving a small piece of parchment in his hand.

Draco hurried down to the Slytherin dormitories, entering the first year boys’ dorm. As he entered the dark room, he noticed a figure sitting on his bed. As it noticed the room’s new arrival, the figure jumped up, making Draco recognise her as Pansy, and ran towards him.

The girl tackled him in a hug, making him fall backwards into the door as Draco gave out a short, surprised laugh. He hugged back slightly, before pulling away and giving her a soft smile. He received a questioning look in return.

“I’m fine, Pans,” he reassured her in a whisper, watching as the worried look faded.

She gave him a warm smile, hugging him close once more to whisper in his ear, “Let’s talk about this tomorrow,” before leaving the room.

Draco smiled slightly to himself, using his wand for light, and got ready for bed.

After he had climbed into his bed, he remembered the note Hermione had shoved into his hands. He took the parchment from his bedside table, where he had dumped it, and took out his wand from beneath his pillow.

“ _Lumos_ ,”  he whispered, his wand lighting up the words on the parchment. The note read:

Draco,

Since I know you’ll be tired after the detention tonight, I would like to talk to you  on Saturday after the exams, in the library, midnight.

I hope to see you there.

\- Hermione

Draco knew she had chosen then so it wouldn’t take away any of her revision time. Draco thought it was late and found such a long time in between very inconvenient. There was, however, nothing he could do about it, so he let it go and took the book from his bedside table.

Though it was already four in the morning, he couldn’t quite catch some sleep. So, deciding to spend his time doing something worthwhile, he started reading the whole part of their detention again, as he had only read it that morning.

It was quite fun, reading through it while having lived through it already. It gave him quite a surreal feeling, as if he was a mere character in a book. Only then he noticed there had been another part added to the chapter which he had completely overlooked earlier.

He gave out a quiet laugh at Weasley’s reaction after being shaken awake. Draco had to resist rolling his eyes ever time they mentioned Snape, as they still believed he was Quirrell. He thought Hermione had quite a good point, not only about Dumbledore but also about the centaurs. Fortune-telling was quite an imprecise branch of magic.

As he read about the Cloak, he remembered something. He  _had_ read this piece before, earlier that day. He had already thought it was weird he had missed it. Draco suddenly remembered vividly what had happened that morning.

_“You wanted to speak me, Draco?” Dumbledore had asked him as he had sat behind his desk in his office. Draco had nodded._

_ “Yes, sir,” he had said. “It’s about the book.” Dumbledore’s eyebrows had raised slightly, looking at Draco with an interested glint in his eyes. “It says Potter will receive his Invisibility Cloak tonight, beneath his sheets, with a note pinned to it that reads: Just in case.” _

_ Dumbledore had given him a slow nod, urging him to continue. Draco had cleared his throat. _

_ “I know you have it, sir, so I wanted to inform you of this,” Draco had admitted, embarrassed. _

He was glad he did a good enough job, as Potter had received the Cloak, since Draco had felt nothing on his chest or in his body. He went to sleep relaxed that night, as tiredness had finally caught up with him.

The following week was torture for Draco. Just studying, studying and studying for his exams. All the studying was wearing him down. Or maybe it was the book not continuing what worried him. He didn’t want it to. Not yet, either way. But the suspense wasn’t doing the normal exam stress any good. And as the exams started, it all got even worse. In any spare moment Draco had, he was worrying about whether the book would continue in the middle of the exam period.

And it did.

Well, not quite in the middle, more like the second to last day.

Draco sat on his bed, Pansy in front of him, busy studying for History of Magic, their next and last exam. The past week, Draco had been busy worrying about the small parts the book had already added, as he had had no particular problem with most of the subjects, let alone this one.

Over the week, the book had added several sentences, though none were as suspenseful as the ones being added then. To Draco’s horror, the book was continuing, though everything would happen on Friday, the next day. Draco started quietly reading the part, aware Pansy was still studying and not wanting to bother her.

He frowned slightly as Potter started going on about his scar — or more, the pain of his scar, and wholeheartedly agreed with what he said about the coming of danger as he had a feeling that’s what the chapter would be about. It probably _was _called _Through the trapdoor_ for a reason.

Draco also felt bad for Hermione. If she had really gone through half her Transfiguration notes, she would have lost a lot of time. Transfiguration was one of the biggest and main subjects.

All of this was suspiciously peaceful, Draco decided. Let alone as the book mentioned an owl. He had a feeling this owl wasn’t mentioned for no reason at all and wrote it down on a spare piece of ‘study’ parchment.

As he read about Hagrid, having told Quirrell the secret to calm Fluffy, he knew all was lost and physically facepalmed, catching Pansy’s attention in a split second.

“You’re not studying, are you?” she asked, her voice threateningly low, a soft glare on her face. Draco bit his lip, mentally kicking himself for being this reckless.

“Look, Pans,” he started hesitantly. “The book has just continued and something’s going to happen tomorrow.” Pansy gave him a worried look. “So, to be frank, studying is about the last thing on my mind right now.”

The girl gave him a small nod. “What’s happening?” she wondered.

Draco sighed. “Hagrid’s told Quirrell how to get past Fluffy when he got the dragon egg.”

Pansy almost fell off the bed as she had to steady herself with both her arms, accidentally dropping some school supplies on the floor. “What?!” she whisper-shouted.

“Yep. Now, give me a while to read through this all.”

Pansy nodded, going back to her work and leaving Draco to his own work.

_ Seems like I got a lot of things to fix_, Draco thought after he’d read the whole part there already was. He would have to check it later tonight, though, as the trio’s mission wasn’t by far completed yet. But he could handle a few things before that...

“What do you want to talk about, Draco?” Raised eyebrows.

“It’s high importance, sir, so please hear me out.”

“Of course.”

...

“So, after your exam, you will immediately come here?”

“Yes, sir. If that’s no problem?”

“No, not at all, Draco.” A soft smile.

“Mr Malfoy? What might your business in my office be? The first years’ transfiguration exam has already passed, hasn’t it?” A suspicious glare.

“You’re mistaken, Professor. This is by far more important.”

A sigh. “Let’s hear it, then.”

...

“I will be there, Mr Malfoy, since this seems to be important.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Draco?” A suspicious glance around the hallway. “Don’t you have to study for your exam?”

“There are matters more important than that, now, if you will hear me out.”

“I suppose I could. Come in.”

...

“Is that all?”

“Yes, it is. If there are no problems, could you be there?”

“Of course.”

Draco went to sleep only late that night, maybe in the early morning even, after he had fixed everything and had studied as much as he could for the next day. _The_ day... Draco was incredibly nervous, and for the first time that week, it wasn’t because of his exams.  


(Text Copyright © 2020 MChanV)


	16. Stress and Satisfaction

Draco woke up the next morning with a sick feeling in his stomach. He shrugged it off as casual exam stress plus some excitement as it was the last one and did his morning routine as ever. Add a bit of revision. It was only in the middle of the exam, as he was answering questions about some mad wizard from the fifteenth century, that he remembered what would happen that day. He hit himself for the head, hoping to play it off as a basic exam reflex.

He left the classroom feeling restless, immediately rushing to Dumbledore’s office, where he had an appointment with his headmaster and two of his teachers. As he reached the stone statue, he almost bumped into McGonagall coming up another flight of stairs.

“There you are, Mr Malfoy,” she greeted, smiling uncertainly and a bit stiffly.

“Good day, Professor,” Draco politely greeted back, walking with her up the stairs to Dumbledore’s office after giving the password to the gargoyle. They knocked and entered the room to find the other two already there. They had some formal greeting stuff and sat down at Dumbledore’s desk. 

“So, Draco,” Dumbledore started, catching the others’ attention. “Will we just have to follow what you say?”

Draco shook his head slightly. “Not exactly, as I’m just following the book as well.” He took the book and notebook out of his bag, laying them on the desk. He opened the book, spotting where they were, and stood up to look out the window, opening it.

“There it is,” he spoke to the group at large, as a tawny owl came flying through the window Draco had just opened, a note clamped in its beak. Draco took the note and unfolded it, walking back and putting it on the desk for the other three to see.

“What is this, Draco?” Severus spoke up first, the other two went to look at him in curiosity.

“There seems to be something urgent at the Ministry,” Dumbledore answered thoughtfully.

“It’s a fake letter Quirrell has sent you to get you away from here,” Draco explained easily. “Quirrell can’t act while you’re at Hogwarts, so he’s sending you away with a fake letter. We’ll just have to make him believe you aren’t here.”

The other occupants of the room nodded, though McGonagall seemed to rethink what Draco had said.

“It does look completely legitimate,” she muttered thoughtfully.

“As it should,” Dumbledore agreed cheerfully. “Quirrell did a great job with it.”

Severus and McGonagall gave Dumbledore a disbelieving glance as Draco went back to the book.

“I think it’s your call, Professor,” Draco said calmly, though his nerves were acting up again.

McGonagall nodded. “Where again? To be sure,” she asked.

“Entrance Hall. You know what you have to say, right?”

“Be resilient and keep cutting Mr Potter off?”

“Exactly. Let the rest come naturally.”

McGonagall nodded and left the room, leaving Dumbledore and Severus in a tense silence as Draco followed the book.

In the middle of her conversation in the book which went extraordinarily good as Draco hadn’t given either her nor Severus a script, he gestured the latter to get going. “Just greet them and act as if you know their plan!” he called after him. “And go to the staff room immediately after!”

The door had closed with a loud ‘thud’, and Dumbledore and Draco were the only ones left.

“Minerva is aware that she has to go to the Third-Floor Corridor, isn’t she?” Dumbledore spoke up in the silence.

“She should,” Draco agreed.

Silence fell again.

A few minutes later. “I suppose I should go now,” Draco said, standing up. “I’ve got one more thing to handle.”

Dumbledore nodded, leaning forward on his folded hands, elbows resting on the desk.

Draco hurried through the corridors, only coming to a halt near the staff room, and waited for Hermione to come running out. It didn’t take long until that happened.

“Draco,” she greeted, coming to an abrupt halt in front of him. “I didn’t think—“

“I’m gonna keep this quick,” Draco cut her off. “When Potter tells you to send a letter, do as if you would usually do, but go to the one, big stone gargoyle statue, if you know where that is.” Hermione nodded, opening her mouth to say something before Draco interrupted her again. “Go. Now. They’re waiting for you.” And he turned around, hurrying back to Dumbledore’s office to sit the night out.

Draco knew it would take a long while before there would be any more action. He would just have to sit there in Dumbledore’s office, waiting, since the trio would only leave late that evening. He knew he couldn’t go walking around the school, for the fear of looking suspiciously nervous for the end of the exams. Of course, the whole school was nervously awaiting their results, but it wasn’t quite the same as for Draco.

Dumbledore wasn’t all too calm, himself. Probably because he didn’t know if he’d actually be with Potter in time. Though his expression was as calm and relaxed as ever, there was the slight tension that wouldn’t leave his body; the occasional tapping of his fingers on the desk, biting his lip only slightly. And probably the only way Draco had noticed that was because father had always taught him how to study others’ behaviour.

He was also keeping a good look on the book, and almost fell off the chair as the boldness continued, telling about them finally leaving their common room, under the Invisibility Cloak. “They’re leaving,” he murmured to himself, catching Dumbledore’s attention.

“Are they, now?” he asked in a faint attempt to not let his nervousness shine through. Draco nodded hesitantly.

“There’s only Peeves now, before they’ll be inside.” Draco sighed deeply, following the bold letters closely. Tiredness was making itself known as well. By the flying keys, his eyelids were already starting to fall shut, tired of the constant abuse. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, letting out a long yawn.

Dumbledore gave him a compassionate smile before returning to his work. Draco didn’t know what his headmaster was working on, but was sure it was something important as his face was scrunched up in concentration, a small frown in place. It was probably to distract him from that day’s stressful matters. Draco’s fingers began unconsciously fiddling with a loose piece of wood on the desk as he followed the chess game attentively.

“Hermione’s leaving,” he mentioned, as he read the end of the potions room. Draco stood up, nodding goodbye to his headmaster, and leaving the room. He waited in front of the statue for a sign of the girl.

A small ten minutes later, footsteps sounded through the hallway, and Draco prepared himself for the worst. He didn’t know how Hermione would look, as the book hadn’t described her condition. He heaved a small sigh as she turned the corner mostly fine, despite a few scars Draco knew would be easy to heal.

The girl’s face lit up in a smile as she noticed Draco and she ran up to him to succumb him in a hug. Draco smiled slightly, hugging the slightly shorter girl back and holding her close for a second, letting her catch her breath.

“How are you?” he asked as they parted. The girl smiled uncertainly.

“I’m fine, so’s Ron,” she answered, as Weasley came up behind him, frowning at the two. It was only then Draco noticed the weasel was there, and he returned the frown easily. “I don’t know about Harry, though...” Hermione continued, oblivious to the hostile glances shared between her two friends.

“And why are we _here_?” Weasley spoke up irritably. “I thought we were supposed to send a letter to Dumbledore.”

Draco’s eyes widened at the remembrance. “Right, shit...” Hermione eyed him thoughtfully, and Draco shrugged. “He’s upstairs, I’ll go get him,” he said. Both of the Gryffindors heaved a relaxed sigh.

A few minutes later, all three were sitting in Dumbledore’s office, on his request. Hermione and Weasley were having a quiet conversation, while Draco sat reading through the book. He sighed heavily, alarming the two others, as Potter was saved.

“And?” Hermione asked, voice filled with fear.

“Dumbledore’s there,” Draco responded, watching as the girl relaxed, slumping down in her chair. She winced slightly.

“You okay, Hermione?” Weasley asked, noticing the reaction. Hermione nodded tiredly, eyes drooping only slightly as she looked down at her arm.

“No, you aren’t,” Draco butted in, standing up and going to stand next to the girl, examining an especially deep cut on her arm. He pulled out his wand to cast a healing charm mother had taught him, before the point of another wand was being shoved in his face.

“Don’t you dare touch her, Malfoy,” Weasley growled low in his throat. Hermione gave both boys a worried look.

“It’s fine, Ron,” she tried soothing him, though he was having none of it, keeping his glaring eyes on Draco and his wand raised in defence.

“All right! Fine!” Draco called out, holding his hands up in defeat. He went back to his seat and just read through a part of the book again to distract himself.

“What is that thing, actually?” Weasley asked snidely, gesturing at the book. “It’s completely white.” He turned away and mumbled  _very_ audibly, “Maybe it’s where you get your brains from.”

Draco rolled his eyes, planning on just ignoring him and not sparking an argument, and instead spoke to the room at large. “I suppose Dumbledore will bring Potter to the hospital wing, seeing his condition.” This caught the Gryffindors’ attention. “You two can’t really go out, but the teachers know I’m still up so I can get you there.”

Hermione nodded frantically, already standing up, but Weasley grabbed her arm. “You shouldn’t trust him, Hermione,” he whispered, though Draco caught it, and he faked a hurt look.

“I should trust him, actually, since he’s the only one who knows what’s happened to Harry!” Hermione called out and sprung to her feet, finally getting tired of Weasley’s idiotic actions. Weasley looked taken aback for a second.

“‘Knows what’s happened to Harry,’ my arse! He knows nothing!” he shot back angrily, standing up as well.

Draco chuckled slightly. “I suppose you don’t care enough about your friend, then, although he could be dead.”

Hermione looked as if struck by lightning. “What do you... _What_ do you mean, Draco?” she asked in a quiet voice. Draco bit his lip.

“He got knocked out, because he was in too much pain, I think. He didn’t even see Dumbledore there,” he admitted. Hermione’s lip starting trembling slightly. Weasley, on the other hand, was glaring forcefully at him, anger not faded at all yet.

“Oh, very funny, Malfoy!” he shouted, but Hermione grabbed his arm, looking him in the eye. After a deep sigh, he agreed, “All right, take us there.”

Draco smiled slightly at Hermione, before standing up and leading the two down the corridors. Halfway to the hospital wing, they halted as McGonagall turned the corner. The Gryffindors shared a worried look, while Draco just smiled at her.

“Mr Malfoy,” McGonagall greeted. “Everything went as planned, I see.”

Draco nodded. “Nothing too difficult. Potter’s in the hospital wing, I take it?”

“Indeed, Mr Malfoy. He’s being examined by Madam Pomfrey right now, actually.”

“So he’s still alive?” Hermione spoke up hopefully, earning a wary look from Weasley.

“Indeed, Miss Granger, though he is not expected to wake up all too soon,” McGonagall answered her calmly, and Draco watched as the girl sighed, smiling relieved at her Professor. McGonagall turned to Draco. “I was wondering whether you’d be so kind to get these two back up to their dormitories, after their visit at the hospital wing.”

Draco nodded slightly. “I suppose that wouldn’t be a problem,” he answered politely, though not really looking forward to it.

“And I’ll be seeing you later to discuss things?”

“Indeed.”

“Good,” she sighed. “I’ll be going then.” And she passed the three of them, going up another staircase and leaving them in the deserted hallway.

“Let’s continue,” Draco said, starting to walk again.

“What  is all of this about,” Weasley exclaimed not long after.

“Let it go, Ron,” Hermione said tiredly. “We’ll discuss it later.”

Weasley scoffed, but dropped the subject.

“Here you are,” Draco said, yawning slightly, as he dropped the two Gryffindors off at the portrait of the Fat Lady. They had stayed with Unconscious Potter for maybe a few hours, and since Draco had to escort them back, he had had to wait with them.

Hermione gave the password and made to enter before Weasley spoke up. “Why are you giving that moron our password?” he said irritably. Both Hermione and Draco sighed deeply.

“Face it, Ronald. Everything that’s happened with him today,” she demanded tiredly, looking as sleepy as Draco felt.

“And don’t mention a thing to Potter,” Draco warned, looking at him dangerously.

“And why?” Weasley asked, glaring at Draco.

“Because many bad things could happen,” Hermione admitted, sharing a worried look with Draco. He hadn’t told her what had happened the last time he had disobeyed the book, but she already seemed to know. “Pansy told me,” she admitted to him, looking slightly apologetic.

“Who told what?” Weasley butted in again.

“Nothing Ron / Weasley!”

It took a while to come to an agreement with the weasel, but Draco was glad he could return to his dorm for the night. And he did. He hurried back to his dorm, desperately needing a long sleep, and he was sure to  _not_ wake up before noon. Maybe then he’d be well rested the next day when he would not only have to explain things to Hermione at midnight but also talk to Pansy and have a pretty private conversation with his headmaster and two certain teachers. Though, after all, Draco was betting on a good day. 

The end of exams could indeed make up for a whole lot!

But that hope was soon shattered.

Draco was woken up early the next morning.  _Too_ early. He had expected to be asleep until, like, at least noon. Not until bloody seven! Draco understood why Pansy wanted to speak to him, but for him it could  _really_ wait a long while longer.

And maybe that’s why Draco got angry at her way too quickly.

When Pansy had come yelling into the room for Draco to wake up, Draco had in alarm — and slight annoyance — grabbed his wand from beneath his pillow and almost fired some kind of awful prank jinx at her before he got to his senses. He fell backwards onto his pillow, exhaled tiredly while putting his wand away again.

“Wha...?” he groaned, rubbing his eyes while yawning widely. A sudden weight on the side of his bed told him Pansy had sat down.

“Sorry for waking you,” she apologised quietly, probably afraid for another outburst.

“S’nothing,” he responded. “Jus’ thought I’d sleep a lil’ longer than this...”

“When did you return?”

“I dunno... three? Four? Five, maybe.”

The weight on the bed vanished as Pansy jumped off the bed. “Five o’clock? That late?” she called out. Draco nodded slightly, still extremely tired but starting to wake up a little. “I am so sorry for waking you,” she muttered.

“S’fine, I told you,” Draco responded, rubbing his eyes once more before sitting up in his bed, muscles still tired from his short rest. “Why’re you up already?”

“Everyone’s been talking about yesterday,” Pansy answered. “They’re saying Potter’s in the hospital wing, Quirrell’s dead, something about a stone...” she trailed off, looking somewhere else in the room.

“Yeah... Potter’s in the hospital wing, Quirrell’s dead, and I dunno what exactly’s happened to the stone yet,” Draco filled her in. “Potter’s fine, though. Nothing serious. He did almost die,” he added as an afterthought.

“He did?” Pansy looked surprised, as if not expecting the Boy Who Lived to be able to die.

“Almost, yeah.”

“That’s crazy! What more?”

Draco groaned tiredly. “Later, Pans? ‘m still not fully awake,” Draco asked.

“Of course, I’ll let you be,” Pansy responded, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of Draco’s face. She stood up and left the room, leaving Draco alone in a comfortable silence.

“Maybe today won’t be that good after all,” Draco murmured to himself, laying back down on his pillow and closing his still-tired eyes.

And he woke up a few hours later by Severus demanding his presence in his office.

That’s why, a full half an hour later, he knocked on the door to Severus’ office. It had taken that long because he still had to get dressed and have a much-needed shower before declaring himself borderline presentable. He had just put on some simple dark green robes, not really bothering to dress up as he would just be going to his godfather’s office for a little word, most likely over the past night.

Draco’s eyes widened in slight surprise as the one who opened the door wasn’t Severus, but McGonagall. She was wearing her basic, emerald-green robes.

“Mr Malfoy, there you are,” she greeted Draco, holding the door open for him to enter the room. He did so, taking a seat at the desk in the centre of the room. McGonagall went to sit next to him. Severus and Dumbledore sat on the other end.

Draco then had a very good idea of what this conversation would be about.

“Now be it all of us are finally present,” Dumbledore spoke up as the first to do so since Draco had entered the quiet room. Severus had looked worst of the three there, as if he rather wanted to drink one of Longbottom’s potions. “I would like to ask whether anything went wrong yesterday,” he continued, looking once at every individual before his eyes landed on Draco.

“Not that I caught notice of,” Draco responded, returning his headmaster’s glance.

“That’s excellent,” Dumbledore exclaimed, leaning forward on his hands, elbows resting on the dark wood of the desk. “I’ve decided the three of you would better be the first to hear about all matters going on,” he announced cheerfully, as if he was about to talk about how _good_ everything had been going.

Which it certainly hadn’t.

Severus and McGonagall frowned at his tone, Draco just focused on listening.

“Mr Potter, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger have entered the out-of-bounds Third-Floor Corridor yesterday evening, surpassing all the teacher’s enchantments — Yes, Draco?”

Draco lowered his hand from where he had raised it to not seem impolite while interrupting his headmaster. “They didn’t have to get past Quirrell’s,” he said. “He had gotten rid of that troll himself.”

Dumbledore nodded calmly. “That’s good to know. Thank you, Draco. Now let me continue.

“Harry stood face to face with Quirrell and received the Philosopher’s Stone out of the Mirror of Erised. Then he fought with Quirrell, whom Lord Voldemort had possessed, and to the back of whom’s head he had attached himself, giving him several commands throughout the year. I reached the room only just in time for Harry to survive.

“Said boy is now recovering in the hospital wing for the time being while the stone has been destroyed.” He turned to Draco. “I was wondering if you could inform me of when the boy would awake,” he said to him, as Draco took the book out of his bag, which he had taken with him in a hurry before leaving the room.

He went all the way to the last page, before looking back up at his headmaster. “There’s nothing mentioned, sir, so it won’t happen in another twenty-four hours,” he answered him. Dumbledore gave him an appreciative nod. “But, what about Nicolas Flamel?” Draco wondered, catching everyone’s attention.

“I will have a word with Nicolas about this, yes, though I have a feeling he won’t mind. One can get tiredof living, let alone after six hundred years,” he said calmly, sitting back upright. “Now, I suppose it won’t take long for Hogwarts to notice these happenings, so don’t worry when you hear students talking about it,” Dumbledore mentioned, standing up.

He started walking to the door, calling after him, “Meeting ended. Oh, and the three of you should sleep early, you all look exhausted,” before leaving the room, leaving Draco, Severus and McGonagall in a tired silence.

McGonagall was the first one to break it. “I will be going, then,” she said, bidding the other two goodbye and leaving the room.

“You should go, too, Draco. I’m sure your friend, Miss Parkinson, wants to know what has happened,” Severus said a few seconds after the door had closed. “And if I were you, I shouldn’t put this much fate in a  _ book _ ,” he spat bitterly, grabbing some parchment and a quill to work, probably on grading the exams.

Draco nodded, agitated. “All right, Severus,” he said, nodding his goodbye to him and leaving the room. Now there would only be Pansy to deal with. Draco sarcastically wondered where she would be waiting for him.

Not in the Slytherin dormitories, that was for sure. Draco had gone there right away, convinced the girl would wait there for him. As he had entered the common room, he had started his search for the girl, but hadn’t found her. Now, he was on his way to the library, knowing hardly anyone would be there since it was nice enough outside.

As he entered the library, he hurried to the back, staying unnoticed by Madam Pince, who was dusting a bookshelf at the other side of the room. Coming to their usual table, Draco halted in his steps. Sitting there were Pansy and Hermione, talking together as if they had been friends for ages.

Draco smiled to himself, walking closer to the table. The two girls didn’t notice him until he fake-coughed to get their attention. “Having fun, girls?” he wondered, smiling, as he sat down next to Pansy, Hermione opposite them. Both girls returned his smile enthusiastically.

“Do you think that’s all for the year, Draco?” Hermione asked him. Draco shrugged.

“The end-of-year feast is Wednesday, so I do believe so. We’ll just have to wait for Potter to wake up.” Draco smiled at her, but his face soon turned to a frown as both girls looked worried.

“How is Harry doing?” Hermione asked him hesitantly. Pansy looked at Draco expectedly.

“He’s fine.” Draco frowned, looking from one to the other. “He survived and will probably wake up soon. Dumbledore said he was fine, although the stone has been destroyed.” The last part caught their attention.

“But — Nicolas Flamel and his wife!” Pansy exclaimed. Draco shrugged again.

“We’ll see what’ll happen. Dumbledore said he’ll have a word with him,” Draco told them.

“Can you tell us when something’s added to the book?” Hermione wondered, looking unsure of herself.

“Of course!” Draco smiled as the girl exhaled, relieved. She stood up.

“I have to go. Ron will get suspicious otherwise,” she gave as explanation, bidding him and Pansy goodbye before leaving the library.

Pansy leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Everything worked out in the end, huh?”

Draco smiled, letting his head rest in his arms on the desk. “I suppose so...”

But there were still a few things that had to be taken care of.  
  


(Text Copyright © 2020 MChanV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> This is the second to last chapter of the first part of the Destinia series. Next weekend will be the last episode (kind of like an epilogue). Just a hands-up.


	17. Very Bloody Murder

Draco woke up nervous the next day. The end-of-year feast was only two days away, and the book had added nothing yet. Draco started to wonder if he’d even attend the feast. He had woken up late that day, taken a shower, gotten dressed and grabbed his bag with the book in it, before going up to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Entering the Hall, already near the end of breakfast, he noticed a very chatty atmosphere. Whether it was about their exams, the end-of-year feast, or Potter, they all had something to talk about. Draco merely smiled sadly and walked over to where Pansy was sitting, staring at the Gryffindor table and looking as though she was trying to communicate with Hermione via their thoughts.

“Morning, Pans,” Draco greeted, sitting down next to the girl and grabbing a slice of bread. The Slytherin suddenly looked wide awake and back to reality.

“Good morning, Draco,” she said, smiling widely at him. She quickly looked around the table, seeing if anyone was sitting too close for them to discuss something secret. She’d once told him she just couldn’t be careful enough, let alone after what had happened when Draco had disobeyed the book.

“Has he woken up yet?” she asked him in a whisper. Draco almost choked on his food.

“Shit,” he murmured, discarding his sandwich on his plate and reaching inside his bag for the book. He heard Pansy sigh next to him, but ignored her and went to the last page — one he hadn’t seen before! He grinned, going back a few pages and starting to read.

He knew he was smiling all the way through the new entry, somehow glad Potter was awake and well. So many things seemed to fit when he read Dumbledore’s explanations. He had been so invested in the book he hadn’t noticed the Hall clearing out, until him, Pansy and Hermione, whom he hadn’t heard sitting down in front of him, were the only ones left. He faintly heard hurried footsteps walking towards them.

“What are you three still doing in here?” It was Professor Sprout, the Herbology Professor of Hogwarts. “It’s so nice outside. It’d be a pity not to enjoy it!”

Hermione, already starting to grab her things, opened her mouth to apologise. But Draco was faster. “Tell Professor Dumbledore I have to meet him as soon as possible, preferably now,” he told Sprout, who was starting to look slightly red.

“Nonsense!” she called out. “The Headmaster doesn’t need—” She cut herself off as she saw the open book in front of Draco. She coughed in her hand, straightening up. “Of course, Mr Malfoy. I’ll be leaving now,” she said in a rush, slightly embarrassed, and left towards the High table.

“Does she know?” Hermione wondered, settling down again.

“Of course, she does. Most teachers do, in fact,” Draco answered, leaning back on the bench and putting the book back in his bag.

Hermione nodded, following Draco’s actions with her eyes. “How’s Harry?” she asked worriedly.

“Still asleep, now,” Draco answered her. “He’ll wake up tomorrow morning. Sir.”

“Sir?” Hermione asked, aghast. Draco sighed, looking back at the girl.

“Behind you, Hermione,” Draco answered her, already standing up.

“O-oh...” She turned around. “I’m sorry, sir!” she apologised to Dumbledore, who had come up behind her.

“No worries, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore disregarded her, straining his blue eyes on Draco. “If you could follow me, Draco.”

“Of course, sir.” Draco gave a short nod and followed Dumbledore out. It was still awkward, being in his headmaster’s vicinity, even after a whole year of following his orders. Dumbledore stayed his headmaster, after all, even though they’d had plenty of meaningless conversations along the way.

Draco smiled, keeping up with Dumbledore’s rapid pace. He had no problem keeping it, though some probably would, as it wasn’t the slowest walk. Draco had always been a fast walker either way, to Pansy’s disgruntlement.

“So, Draco,” Dumbledore suddenly spoke up after the first flight of stairs. “How has your year been?”

“Fine, sir. Stressful at times,” Draco answered politely. This was exactly an example of their meaningless conversations.

“As school tends to be,” he agreed, keeping his brisk pace. A few minutes later they halted in front of the stone gargoyle. Only after they sat down at Dumbledore’s desk did they start talking about important matters.

Draco had given his headmaster a small script he’d have to follow the next day, warning him not to disregard it. It were the more important points in his and Potter’s conversation. Draco noticed how the old man didn’t make any notes. It seemed as if he trusted his old memory, something Draco wouldn’t risk. But maybe his wasn’t as bad as Draco was imagining.

Dumbledore also gave Draco a heads up about what would happen when term ended and everyone would return home. He had given him something wrapped up, warning Draco not to open it before the book was completely finished. Draco agreed and Dumbledore reminded him one last time to send him the notebook when the “first” book had finished.

He kept saying that word, first, and Draco really didn’t know what it meant. Though he had already guessed that there would be a second book on the way. And, thinking back on it, that secret package did look suspiciously book-like. Draco left his headmaster’s office and hurried to the library to tell his friends about everything, as he knew they’d be waiting there for him.

“Do you think Ron and I will have to do something tomorrow, too?”

Draco almost fell off the bench as Hermione asked that. He straightened himself up quickly, shrugged, and opened the book again. “Perhaps,” he answered her, going to the last part he had read.

After he had entered the library and found the two girls at their usual table, he had told them what Dumbledore had told him and what he had told Dumbledore. Both of the girls had kept very focused, clearly interested in his story. He had also told them about the parcel, which both of them found as strange as he did.

Draco had completely forgotten to check the book for any more tasks for Hermione, being too occupied with his headmaster’s part. As he came to the end, he started reading. It was nice, being able to read Potter’s story knowing nothing would happen anymore. Nothing bad, at least.

After he had finished with all that had been added, he looked back up at the girl who was looking expectedly at him. “You and Weasley’ll talk to Potter tomorrow as well, after Dumbledore leaves,” he explained to her, watching her furrow her brows.

“What do I have to say?” she wondered. Pansy shrugged helpfully and Draco gave her a light shove before returning to the book as Hermione rolled her eyes.

“You have to ‘look ready to fling your arms around him’, tell him you were worried and then he’ll explain everything to you and Weasley,” he told her, keeping his eyes locked on the book and only catching Pansy’s low chuckle as reaction. “You’ll tell Potter about what’d happened to you and the weasel—” “Draco!” “—right, Weasley, and tell him you’d met Dumbledore in the Entrance Hall—”

Draco paused, furrowing his brows, and went back a few pages. “Curious,” he murmured, looking up. The nagging looks of the two girls made him explain, “Dumbledore said he and your owl ‘must have crossed in mid-air’, while you have to say you walked into him in the Entrance Hall.”

Hermione raised her hand to her chin, looking thoughtful. “That, indeed, is curious,” she agreed, but put it aside fairly quickly as she continued, “What more will I have to do?”

Draco nodded hastily and focused back on the book. “After Weasley proposes it might’ve been Dumbledore’s plan to get Potter in trouble, you have to—“

“Excuse me,” she started dangerously. “Do you really think that?!”

Draco chuckled slightly while Pansy looked taken aback. “—react exactly like that, only a bit more fury,” Draco finished, grinning at the distressed girl.

“That is utterly irresponsible of our headmaster!” she shrieked. “Why would he put Harry in such a life-threatening situation?!”

“Hermione!” Pansy exclaimed in a faint attempt to get the girl to calm down.

“No, Pansy, I will not calm down!” she bellowed, reading Draco’s mind. Though he had once learned not to ask a girl that.

“No yelling in the library!” Draco sighed as Madam Pince stormed over to them, looking scandalous. “Out! All three of you!” They did as she told them to, only letting their heartbeat calm down outside the library.

“Well,” Draco started. “Pansy and I have some unfinished business in our common room, so we’ll see you later, Hermione!” He grabbed Pansy elbow and dragged her along with him. Behind them, they faintly hear Hermione calling them to come back, but they kept going until they entered Draco’s dormitory.

“I really hope this is the end of the year,” Pansy said, slumping in a chair near Draco’s bed. Draco let himself fall backwards onto it, looking up at the ceiling and sighed.

“Me too.”

The following day wasn’t very eventful. All Draco did was hang around with Pansy and go over a few things with Hermione, who had luckily calmed down after they had left her in front of the library the day before. They were still wary, though, of being seen in public, so they decided that would be their last meeting of the year and said goodbye to each other.

Draco had followed both her and Weasley’s, and Dumbledore’s conversations with Potter closely, nervous as he always felt whenever people who knew about the book would appear in it. He was always anxious for something to go wrong and have Fate blame it on him. Pansy wasn’t very ecstatic about that thought either.

He and Pansy mostly kept to themselves that day, sometimes joined by Crabbe and Goyle. The two of them went for a long stroll across the castle grounds, said hello to the giant squid, and even went all the way to the edge of the forbidden forest, though that had been Draco’s least favourite part, for obvious reasons.

After an exhausting day, Draco collapsed in his bed, reading a bit of the book, but only reading as far as Hagrid’s visit before stopping himself as he wanted to keep the end-of-year feast a surprise. He fell asleep quickly and happily.

Waking up late the day of the end-of-year feast, having deciding to get a good and long night’s rest, Draco was already exhilarated as Slytherin would win the House Cup seven years in a row. Aware that the feast would only by that evening, he took his time to pack away some things, leaving the necessities to the next day. He spent the rest of the day talking with Pansy, and that Zabini...

Blaise Zabini was a fellow Slytherin first year, and Draco recognised him from when he had asked him and Pansy if they were dating back in the beginning of the year. Back then, he had thought the boy was weird, thinking they were dating, but then supposed he mustn’t have known about the thing with the girls’ dormitory either.

That was also weird to him. In the back of his mind, he could faintly recall his father telling him to never even think about liking someone of the same gender. Only when the older Slytherin students had told him it was all right to be gay, he realised that he maybe really shouldn’t trust his father. Draco would need some time to think that over for sure.

That evening, Draco took his time to get ready. He took a long shower, put on his school robes, and combed his hair to perfection, deciding to go a little wild and skipping the gel. It turned out better than expected, and Pansy was trying to encourage him to always have it like that. But Draco wasn’t all too sure as it kept getting into his eyes.

After that, he and Pansy got up to the Great Hall for the feast, arriving earlier than most to an almost empty Hall. Gloating at the hourglasses, Draco kept a hand on the bag with the book in it. He had taken it with him just to be sure, not having checked it before. And Draco didn’t really have good memories of such an occasion.

The Hall filled quickly, though there wasn’t a glimpse of Potter. The weasel and Hermione had taken a seat alone a minute ago, the latter sharing Draco and Pansy’s worried looks. Draco really liked the Hall’s change of appearance, though. He had always thought the Great Hall looked quite bare, but with the Slytherin colours, it appeared brought to life again.

Every seat was filled, everyone was talking, besides one person whom still seemed to be absent. Draco sighed deeply, right as he noticed one more person entering the Hall. The rest of the Hall seemed to have noticed it as well, as there was a sudden hush, all staring at the big doors.

Draco smiled, catching sight of the eleven-year-old as the whole hall started talking loudly again. He shared a relieved smile with Pansy and Hermione as Potter took a seat between her and Weasley. Some students were standing up, trying to glimpse Potter. Draco had seen enough to be satisfied, though, and focused on Dumbledore entering the Hall through a side door.

As he stood in front of the four house tables, the noise in the Hall died down and as the silence threatened to become deadly, Dumbledore started cheerfully, “Another year gone! And I must trouble you with an old man’s wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast.” A few snickers could be heard echoing through the Hall before Dumbledore continued, “What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were ... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts...

“Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus: in fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw have four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin—” Draco’s breath hitched in excitement, his hand grasping tighter at the goblet in it. “—four hundred and seventy-two.”

All at once, the Hall — mostly Slytherin — was in an uproar. He and Pansy shared happy grins as Draco banged his goblet on the table, cheering with the rest of his house. His first year at Hogwarts and immediately—

“Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin,” Dumbledore spoke up to the suddenly quiet Hall. Draco felt his happiness fade a little as Pansy frowned worriedly. “However (Here it comes, Draco thought), recent events must be taken into account.” At this, the rest of the Hall bathed in a sudden silence as Slytherin felt their loss.

“Ahem,” Dumbledore continued. “I have a few last-minute points to dish out.” Draco groaned, knowing what was coming. They deserved it, but still. This could — and probably would — take the House Cup away from Slytherin. “Let me see. Yes ...

“First — to Mr Ronald Weasley ...”

Draco rolled his eyes, Pansy grimaced.

“... for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points.” Crossing his arms, Draco pursed his lips in disapproval, something he had learned from Pansy. Okay, they deserved some points, but this many?

As silence fell once again, Dumbledore continued, “Second — to Miss Hermione Granger ... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire (“While forgetting she’s a witch,” Draco muttered disgruntled. Pansy glared at him), I award Gryffindor house fifty points.” Draco groaned again, dropping his arms on the table and resting his head on top of them.

“Third — to Mr Harry Potter ...” Dumbledore said. Draco jumped upright again. The room had once again fallen into an anxious silence. “... for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points.” Biting his lip, but smiling slightly, he tried to ignore the uproar, hating how they already tied with Slytherin and if Draco was right—

Dumbledore raised his hand, asking for silence once again. There it is, Draco thought sullenly. “There are all kinds of courage,” Dumbledore said, smiling. Draco despised that smile. “It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr Neville Longbottom.”

Draco’s eyes widened in shock. He had expected Dumbledore to hand out at least one more point, but ten points to Longbottom for what? Attacking his friends? Ridiculous. Dumbledore brought Draco back to reality as his voice reached over the loud uproar. “Which means we need a little change in decoration.” The Hall suddenly changed to the Gryffindor colours, as Draco sneered, disgusted.

They tried to ignore everything for the rest of the evening, enjoying the divine food. Honestly, this wasn’t a night to easily forget. Late that night, Draco even had the joy to relive it, albeit through Potter. The feast was just too spectacular to not enjoy, Slytherin or Gryffindor.

“Are you ready?”

Draco sighed, standing up from his bed and stretching, before turning to face Pansy, standing in the open doorway. “Yeah,” he murmured quietly, giving her a soft smile.

“Let’s go, then,” she said, returning the smile. Draco nodded, and they left the already empty dorm, being the last first years still there. But as he looked around the Slytherin common room, he distantly didn’t really feel like leaving the place.

The Hogwarts Express would be setting off in half an hour, and then they would be on their way back home, after their first year at Hogwarts. Draco had to agree that, although he had never liked — and probably never would like — Hogwarts, it still felt like leaving home.

The manor might be his real home, but Hogwarts came as a close second.

His hand tightened slightly around the strap of the small bag around his shoulder. He had insisted to Pansy that, even though he was pretty sure it was already finished, he still wanted to keep the book close to him. He just felt so naked without having it near him. And he didn’t trust anyone — let alone a house-elf — with the book.

Salazar, he was becoming way too attached to it.

Draco sighed, looking around the large room he had been calling his home for the last ten months, as Pansy touched his elbow slightly. Draco turned his head towards her, a small smile seemingly permanently stuck on his face, as he returned her small nod.

Walking through the common room, as everyone was clearing out, might have been the most emotional moment of his life yet. The atmosphere couldn’t be more divided, though. All throughout the common room, he could see people hugging each other goodbye. Some had tears glistening in their eyes, too prideful to let them fall. At the thought of going back home, Draco guessed, mentally sharing the sentiment. He wasn’t all too keen on having to face his father either.

Others had the biggest smiles on their faces as they happily shared their plans for the summer. Far off in the corner, he could only just see Flint and Wood spending their last day at Hogwarts in quite close proximity. Wood had stayed over, Pansy had informed him the day before, because he wanted to spend his last day of school with his boyfriend.

There were also rumours about Gryffindors having found out about their relationship — or at least Wood’s sexuality. Flint hadn’t been too happy as the rumours had reached him. His relationship with Wood was thriving, and he was probably terrified and thinking Wood would break up with him if — or when — Gryffindor would find out. They didn’t let the rumours get to them in Slytherin, as they seemed even happier these last months, after they had gained free roam. Thanks to Draco, of course.

He had often doubted whether it had been the right thing to do. Before he had told the whole of Slytherin about the two captains, he hadn’t really seen anything wrong with revealing something like that. But the weeks following that outing, several older Slytherins had stopped him, informing him of the SAGA — Sexuality and Gender Acceptance — and about how some people rather not have anyone knowing about their sexuality.

They had also told him some openly gay people had been landed in the hospital wing before, often with severe injuries.

So Draco, despite having been quite scared about what they could have done, had walked up to Flint and apologised for outing him and Wood. Flint, however, hadn’t seemed to mind, and had thanked him for sparing him the stress to do so himself. From then on, Wood had also been hanging out more often in Slytherin, as they couldn’t go to Gryffindor. Pansy told him it was that way because Gryffindor was infested with Mudbloods and Half Bloods, brought up by Muggles, who were incredibly homophobic. At least most of them.

“Another good reason to hate them,” Draco had told Pansy in disgust, already accustomed to and accepting the SAGA. Pansy had nodded, grinning.

He smiled, averting his eyes from the couple and exiting the Slytherin common room. They walked through the dungeons in silence, occasionally broken by other students, and only rarely exchanging smiles.

As they joined the stream of first years going towards the boats, Draco hid his emotions as best as possible, sensing Pansy staring at him in a manner most likely associated with worry. He shrugged half-heartedly and went aboard one of the boats. Unknowingly fidgeting with the strap of the bag, he watched out the corner of his eye, as two Ravenclaw first years joined them. With them sitting in front of him and Pansy, their talkativeness couldn’t not bother Draco, as they wouldn’t shut up.

Draco sighed, going to look for something to do — like finding Potter amongst the other thirty-six students — when a hand on his own pulled his attention towards his right.

“Just wait,” Pansy warned in a low voice. Draco bit his lip, nodded, and took his hand away, folding both of them on his lap and keeping his gaze locked at them for some kind of distraction.

After a few minutes, Hagrid called out over the bunch of first years, “Ev’ryone ‘ere? Let’s go, then!” And the boats came into motion, sailing away from Hogwarts. Draco turned around halfway the Lake, looking up at the enormous castle, and trying not to worry about the summer.

Trying not to worry about something is never a good sign. Draco realised that only as the train ride was almost at its end. He fidgeted restlessly with anything within reach, flipping through the book, desperately trying to keep his mind off his father. He found that quite the impossible feat at the moment and resorted to gazing out the window and trying to list exactly why he was worried.

After a few seconds, he remembered.

It was all because of Hermione Granger. Though he couldn’t blame her entirely, coming to terms with the fact that she — a _Muggle-born_ — had surpassed him in all his exams. Second place, after a _Mudblood_. Draco gritted his teeth. He had come to hating the word, seeming it unfit to call Hermione that. But he really didn’t care about those morals right then.

How could he have let a Mudblood beat him? It made little sense in his mind. All right, she was quite intelligent, and sometimes Draco found it a waste the Hat put her in Gryffindor — and not Ravenclaw. And then there had been the constant awareness of the all too possible continuation of the book during the exams, making Draco awfully distorted and distracted. Sadly, the latter he could impossibly use as an excuse to his parents.

He couldn’t just walk up to them and tell them, “Yeah, I didn’t beat the Mudblood in grades because I was busy following a book that seemingly tells the future. Which also involved in my saving Potter, by the way.”

He let out a choked laugh. Yep, fantastic idea, Draco! 

He supposed he’d just have to submit to whatever punishment his father deemed fitting. Draco shuddered just thinking about it. Father had always used the ‘most effective’ methods, often including magical punishments which didn’t leave him without harm. Sometimes, marks from the punishments would still be visible months later.

Father wasn’t one to go easy on those who disobey or disappoint him — he had never been. Draco just couldn’t understand how he could harm his own son, his own blood. But he supposed that didn’t matter when it came to disobedience. Draco knew Father didn’t enjoy hurting him, he really didn’t, and he could always see it in his eyes, the slight empathy, the slight revulsion to what he was doing, whenever he stood face to face with a disobedient Draco.

And maybe that was the hope Draco held on to, refusing to believe Father didn’t love him, and refusing to not love him in return.

Though he had to agree that his relationship with Mother was a million times better, sometimes she’d go a little too soft on him. It wasn’t uncommon to hear Draco’s parents arguing from time to time over how to raise him, trying to find a middle ground neither of them wanted to lower their beliefs to.

Draco knew that being at Hogwarts was safer than being at home, but it would never be as trusted.

Hogwarts was fine and all, despite all the trouble from the last year, but he didn’t know the secret passages, the hiding spots for when he’d piss off a teacher and needed to avoid detention. His father may have told him a fair few, but he knew even he didn’t know everything.

At the Manor, that wasn’t the case. Malfoy Manor was gigantic, with millions of secret passages, hiding spots, tunnels to avoid his father’s wrath, dark corners to disappear into whenever he felt like leaving reality.

And there was a library, maybe ten times as big as the one at Hogwarts, with thousands of books about anything. Magical beings, Potioneering, Dark Magic, ... anything. And suddenly Draco got an idea, something that could keep his mind off of the horrors that lay waiting for him at home for a while.

Throughout the whole year, despite all three of them wondering, neither Draco, Pansy nor Hermione had deepened their search of what the book really was, how it could know what would happen, why it punished as it was disobeyed. He distinctly wished he could skip the Dark Magic sector of searching about the book, but he wasn’t sure at all if it had something to do with it or not.

Either way, he had found something to do when he got bored.

He leaned with the side of his face against the glass of the train window, closing his eyes and despite finally having found something to think about, drifting off to sleep, as Pansy had already done an hour ago.

“...up, Draco!”

Draco groaned, annoyed, wondering why someone was waking him while it would have had to be so obvious he really needed the sleep. He lifted one hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes, yawning slightly. Hearing a heavy sigh from his right, he groaned low in his throat. Opening both his eyes and looking towards the origin of the noise, his annoyance softened — though only slightly — as his eyes found Pansy’s brown ones.

“Finally,” she breathed, a slight annoyance palpable in her own voice. “We’re here, by the way,” she added, standing up and grabbing her trunk from above her.

Draco shook wide awake, sitting upright and desperately trying to regain his posture. He groaned quietly, feeling the train come to a halt, flattening his sleep-ruffled hair, standing up and reaching above him for his own trunk. While Draco tried to fight away the last hint of sleepiness in his facade, Pansy pulled him into a soft hug, saying, “Take care. I’ll miss you.”

Draco smiled sadly at the worry in her voice, but unable to keep the same twist out of his own as he returned, “Same for you. I’ll owl you.”

She gave him a warm, but worried smile as she broke the embrace, before grabbing her trunk in hand and leaving the compartment, waving softly before vanishing from view.

Draco sighed and groaned low in his throat, taking a few deep breaths and grabbing his own trunk, preparing himself to go out there and face Father. He started walking slowly, very much unlike his usual pace, with which hardly anyone could keep up, as he, too, left the compartment and let the mass of students lead him out of the train and onto the platform.

Although his worry still clung to his mind, he confidently looked over the heads of the students and adults and easily spotted his parents’ heads poking above the mass. He bit his lip as he examined their expressions. Mother showed one of deep concern and empathy, while Father... Draco swallowed.

Father looked like he wanted to commit a very bloody murder.   
  


(Text Copyright © 2020 MChanV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> This is the last chapter of the first part of Destinia. I will take a few months off before continuing with the series (don’t know a specific date), and then I’ll start publishing the second part of Destinia. To stay updated, you can subscribe/bookmark the Destinia series on my account.  
> In the meantime, I’ve started writing another story, which I will probably be posting, but not yet. I’m not exactly sure when, but you can keep an eye on my account for when I do publish it. That will probably only be in a month or two. I just really need some time to myself, and don’t have a lot of time to write.  
> I really hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> I hope to see you soon.  
> \- M-Chan V  
> Ps, if you’re a beta reader who’d like to proofread the upcoming parts of this story or of the new story, you’re very welcome to message me via Instagram (mchan_v), Twitter (@MChanV4) or ff.net (M-Chan V). If you’re up to it, I can always send you a short summary / tags of the new story.

**Author's Note:**

> In terms of fanwork of this story:  
> Fanart: No permission needed, send link to my mail (MChanV.Official@gmail.com) and/or @ me if posted to tumblr or instagram.  
> Podfic: Permission needed, request permission and send link via mail (MChanV.Official@gmail.com) and/or @ me if posted to tumblr or instagram  
> Translations: Permission needed, request permission and send link via mail (MChanV.Official@gmail.com) and/or @ me if posted to tumblr or instagram  
> Sequel: No permission needed, send link via mail (MChanV.Official@gmail.com) and/or @ me if posted to tumblr or instagram  
> !Credit is needed for all of the above!  
> I usually respond within 24 hours.


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